


Stare Into the Sun

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Roommates, Slow Build, Slow Burn, also rating will go up when necessary, domestic abuse, guess who doesn't remember how to tag their shit!, it ramps up in like chapter 3?, the first chapter is pretty tame, will add more tags as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: Nero is an art student who's previous roommates are leaving him behind to follow their dreams, so he needs a new place to live. Enter Dante. Shenanigans ensue.Super slow build college AU.NaNoWriMo 2018 Winner





	1. Fading Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter posted! I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'm almost to 50k so I figured it can't hurt to start rolling it out. I hope everyone enjoys!

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, Nero?”

Kyrie’s voice is still soft and sweet as ever and it’s strange to Nero that he won’t be hearing it every day anymore. He doesn’t think he’s quite come to terms with that yet, despite the fact that they’ve been preparing for this moment for ages now.

Kyrie stands at the door with her final bag in hand. The rest have since been packed into Credo’s car with his own bags. They both fly out in a mere few hours to chase their dreams after having graduated from their degrees this past year. Credo is entering the military, Special Ops. His plane is off to basic training, which Nero knows he’ll be great at. He was already great at the school’s ROTC and he’ll fit right in. Kyrie is off toward New York City, where she has a few auditions lined up for choral parts. She’s always dreamed of singing on big stages and spreading her faith through her music. Nero hopes she will find her every dream there.

Unfortunately, though, that leaves Nero alone. He’s grown up with the two friends his whole life. Moved in with them the second he was accepted to the same university they had started at. He hadn’t even really known what he wanted to do with his life at the time, just that he wanted away from home and the school Kyrie and Credo had gone to seemed like a safe place to be. With people he knows and cares about and away from his family.

But now they’re leaving. And the lease on the apartment they had lived in until now is out in two weeks. Which leaves Nero with two more weeks to find a new place to live. He can’t afford the rent of the spacious three bedroom place they have all stayed in together. Not without some kind of miracle between now and then dropping wealthy roommates in his lap. So Nero decided it would just be simpler to find a new place. Plenty of people put up ads looking for roommates over the summer break, it couldn’t be too hard to find somewhere else.

“Yeah, go. Don’t want to miss your flight. Credo’s waiting.” Nero gives her a smile. On the outside, it’s confident and easy. But his mind is panicking just a little. He’s never had to be on his own before. Not really. He’s always had the siblings to turn to, always had a place to go. And now… now he feels as though he’s floating in limbo. Some in between world where he’s practically homeless and very alone. No safety nets.

But Kyrie doesn’t need to worry about him, especially not now as she gives him a bright smile and leans forward to peck his cheek before waving him goodbye. He watches her make her way to Credo’s car, load in her last bag, and get into the passenger seat. He keeps watching as they wave out the windows at him as Credo pulls out of the apartment complex’s parking lot and disappears as he’s lost among the other vehicles going about their business.

A heavy silence falls over Nero while he simply stands there, looking out at where he had last seen the car, staring off at nothing. He stands there a long while, not really sure of what to do with himself in that moment. He knows he needs to start looking for a place to stay. Or, rather, keep looking. It isn’t like this has snuck up on him. He’s been searching for potential places for some time now. But nowhere seems to work. A lot of places are looking for women (of course, just horny guys looking for hot female roommates they can try to catch naked in the bathroom). Several places have hardly a closet as a room, or have a shared room. Nero is pretty sure he can’t handle that. He already has a bit of a problem with maintaining good relationships with other people and he needs plenty of space for all of the materials for his art supplies. The school’s program is more demanding than people would expect and there are a lot of spacious supplies, easels, reference books, sketchbooks, coloured pencils, paints, and so much more that he needs a place to store and to use them. So sharing a room or one that is too small is out of the question.

That leaves a lot of more questionable ads. Some are clearly just creepy people trying to lure some unsuspecting coed into some kind of outrageous deal. Others are far too cheap to be entirely moral. And then there are a few that he’s tried to talk to that turned him off because they have some kind of personality quirk or something about them just bothered him. So he’s pretty much back to square one and he’s rapidly running out of time. He has to have the apartment he’s in now cleaned out in just under two weeks. Which means he’s got just over one to find a place to move all his stuff into.

He sighs before finally retreating back into the mostly empty apartment and shutting the door. What’s left inside is his and most of it is already in boxes, in preparation for his future move himself. Not that he really has all that much. Just some simple living things and his art supplies. Very few items of sentimentality. He isn’t big on that kind of stuff, and besides Kyrie and Credo, he doesn’t really have anyone or anything to be sentimental about.

Still, he has a place on the floor next to where his laptop is currently plugged into the wall. He grabs a snack from the fridge before plopping himself down in it and opening up his computer.

Time to hunt down a place to live.

So far, Nero has been focusing on more official routes. The school has some message boards where people can put ads up for this kind of thing, among other for sale opportunities. But he’s just about exhausted that avenue. He still pulls up the website though, just to make sure there aren’t any new postings. There aren’t, at least none looking for a roommate. So now it’s time to venture into more public forums, where the scam or creep factor is way more likely.

He pulls up the local craigslist and navigates to the room share section. Immediately, there is a slew of very creepy looking ads looking for specific people of specific sexual orientations offering free rent. He doesn’t even open those. He isn’t looking for any kind of special “arrangement,” poor though he may be. He has a job and intends to pay his share. And _not_ with sex. There are a few more that look promising but then he opens them and the strangeness shines through. It’s really easy to say no to every ad he tries to give a chance.

After about 20 minutes of sifting through some of the most uncomfortable ads he’s ever seen, Nero finds one titled ‘Room available in two bedroom close to campus.’ It looks normal enough from that, has a fair price listed, so probably not someone looking to find someone to sleep with in exchange for rent. The location is right. Nero takes a chance and clicks the ad.

There are a few pictures, and they look good. Seems to be a mostly clean place and the bedroom being offered appears to be quite large, perfect for Nero and all his art supplies. He continues on to the ad itself. It’s described as a spacious apartment with two bedrooms. The bigger room is ‘up for grabs’ and the guy appears to be sane enough by the writing. He’s a grad student. Something about the way the ad is written suggests more than one author though, as if the guy had help from someone else. Not unusual, if Nero were to do such a thing, he’d probably have Kyrie write most of it for him so as not to sound like an ass.

He browses the pictures again. The room is furnished with a queen sized bed and has a closet and a wardrobe. Apparently it used to be occupied by some girls who have decided to move out so the room is empty, which is why the ad is up in the first place. Seems legit. The living room is huge, has a nice big TV with an old leather couch facing it. There’s a desk set up in one corner and plenty of room for another. The kitchen is small, but Nero’s not huge on cooking anyway, so that doesn’t really bother him. Looks to be functional enough. There’s a washer and dryer unit in a closet off the main room. Honestly, the place looks pretty perfect.

The only thing that worries him is that right before the contact information is a little line that says there will be a compatibility test for any applicants. That little line probably has scared off plenty of people in the past. And he gets the impression that the guy who put up the ad is the one who added that in and not whoever wrote most of the ad. It sounds like it could be a waste of time, that it could be some stupid bullshit and there could be some major creep factor waiting in the wings. But something draws him to take the number down and send an email introducing himself and asking for further information.

He keeps scanning a few more ads after he sends his inquiry, but nothing else seems to be an option. He does send a few more emails out, asking for more details. But he doubts any will pan out, if they even get back to him. By the time he closes his laptop and lens back against the wall, the only ad he really has still floating in his head is the one with the big room and the odd compatibility test. He wonders what that even means. Is the guy going to give him some weird tabloid relationship quiz and base his moving in on that? Or does he have some other contrived way to test roommate compatibility? Nero just hopes that it isn’t some scam or anything.

He finds himself hoping he gets that room.

It’s perfect. Large, spacious, the bedroom is at one end of the apartment so it will be quiet even if the roommate wants to do whatever he wants to do in the main room. It has the space for his art, it is really close to campus so he won’t have to worry about not having a car and having to walk to class. It’s everything he wants. And, honestly, it’s the only option he’s found that really fits all the things he needs. Now it’s just up to meeting this guy, not totally hating him, and getting him to not totally hate Nero.

He can do that.

Probably.

\--

It takes two days for the owner of the ad to get back to him.

Nero is at his part time job, working reception for a tattoo parlour near campus, when the email comes in. Fortunately, the shop is pretty slow that day. His phone buzzes in his pocket to alert him of a notification and with no one currently in at the moment and the whole place clean enough that he has nothing to do, he decides he should be alright to check it.

Seeing that the email is from craigslist, he immediately feels his heart rate rise a bit. Over the last two days, he’s tried looking for more ads and checked the school’s forum several times, but nothing more promising has turned up. He only hopes that the message is actually from the person he wants it to be.

He’s in luck. Upon opening the email, he finds a short little email.

_Nero,_

_Not a bad name. What d’you say you come over tomorrow and we’ll chat._

_Dante_

Dante. That’s the guys name. Nero is pretty sure he’s heard it around campus. Popular guy. He’s got a reputation on campus and Nero isn’t too sure about him. But the place still sounds too perfect for him to pass up and is still the only real option he’s got. So he types back a quick reply saying he’s off work after seven and would be free then. Once he hits send he shoves his phone back into his pocket and perches his elbows up on the reception desk. Suddenly his mind is buzzing with possibilities and he’s daring to let himself get a little excited about finally finding something that might work.

The rest of his shift drags by. Hardly anyone comes in and most that do are only in for a consult and not an actual tattoo. He does get to watch one pretty cool calf piece get done, though, and that at least lets some of the time pass quickly.

The following day drags as well. In the morning, he tries to busy himself with some sketches but nothing is really coming out. He ends up watching a bunch of videos on Youtube instead of doing any actual drawing. When the time comes for him to head to work, he gets ready faster than usual and makes it a bit early to the shop. Fortunately, it’s much busier there today and he’s able to spend his shift checking in clients and watching a few tattoos. On his rare breaks, he doodles a few tattoo ideas for himself. Nothing special, just a couple simple designs to keep his hands busy while he waits for the next client.

By the time seven rolls around, Nero is actually exhausted. He’d spent the morning working himself up and the afternoon running around at work and it all catches up to him when he realises that _it’s time_. As he walks toward the apartment where Dante lives, his heart pounds and his breathing picks up and he can feel the oncoming panic attack itching at the edge of his awareness. He can _see_ the building, it’s not that far, so why does it feel like it will take years to get there?

He stops at a convenience store, walks in without hardly knowing where he’s going. His eyes find the sign pointing to the restrooms and he practically runs, but more accurately stumbles, toward it. When he gets through the door, he’s relieved it’s a single stall and immediately sinks to the floor with his back to the door. His mind is a clouded mess and he can’t think straight and the air feels like molasses. His breath comes in hard, deep pulls that he can’t seem to control quite like he should. It feels like he sits on that dirty bathroom floor for hours with his hands holding his head while he just tries to get a handle on his breathing. Finally, though, the feeling subsides and he starts to feel like he’s drawing in the proper amount of oxygen again.

When he thinks he’s got a handle on himself again, he checks his phone for the time. According to that, his little panic only managed to last a few minutes, even though it felt like an eternity. At least it wasn’t going to make him late enough that he’d have to explain himself. Slowly, he picks himself up off the floor and throws some water on his face before removing himself from the convenience store. He has to keep reminding himself that he needs this, that he has to go meet this Dante character and make himself look desirable as a roommate. Because he’s at the end of his rope at this point. It’s his only real shot unless he wants to end up homeless on the street. And he can’t do that. He _promised_ Kyrie that he would find somewhere and he would be ok.

He is ok.

In the parking lot, he takes one, two, three deep breaths and then starts toward the door marked number 13. On his way in, he sees a pretty girl with long blonde hair leaving that very door. She’s beautiful and Nero almost turns and walks away right then. Because if she was there to see Dante for the room for rent, then Nero probably didn’t stand a chance. Because even if he is legit and actually just wants a good roommate, he probably also wouldn’t turn down a girl like that who wanted to live with him. But the reminder in the back of his head that he _needs_ this place to work out, keeps him going. He puts his head down as he walks passed the girl and then stands in front of the door.

Deep breath.

Again.

He knocks.

He only has to wait a few moments before the door opens in front of him, leaving him face to face with an imposing man. Nero isn’t what he would consider _small_ by any stretch, but the man in front of him makes him feel that way. He’s tall, sure, but more than that he’s big. He’s wearing a black shirt that hugs his frame and stretches around his big arms as he crosses them over his chest. Also big. Everything is big. Nero would be impressed if he wasn’t terrified.

The man looks him up and down and he feels suddenly very scrutinised. Under a microscope. And, again, he feels very small. “You… must be Nero. Welcome.” There’s an awkward moment in which they both just stand there looking at each other, until the man before him, Dante it must be, looks over his shoulder and clears his throat. “Ah, come on in, kid.”

Nero tenses for a moment. He doesn’t know how to feel about this guy, Dante, calling him kid. He isn’t a kid, hasn’t been for a very long time. But after a moment of hesitation, he ignores the nickname and follows Dante into the apartment.

“So this is home base. I can give you the tour now or later, up to you. Not anything super special or anything,” Dante rambles on while Nero follows him into the main room. Once there, Dante spreads his arms in a ‘here it is’ kind of gesture.

Nero glances around the room. It looks pretty much exactly as it had in the pictures. Nice and spacious, more so even than he had thought. The couch sits in the middle of the room facing that big TV. There are little things about the room, the way it is organised and the quality of certain items, that give Nero the impression that some of it is worth far more than it at first appeared. He absently wonders on the story there. Why this man is bothering to look for a roommate if he can probably afford rent on his own.

“Now is good?” He doesn’t mean for his reply to come out like a question, but that is what ends up coming out. He curses himself, as it makes him sound a child and very unsure.

Dante doesn’t seem to notice though as he turns and waves for Nero to follow him. “This is the living room, obviously. Kitchen’s over there. Fridge always has beer, cabinet has Jack. There’s usually some other stuff hanging around from when the girls are here. Everything works and I’m not one for cooking so it’s usually clean, too.” He’s back to rambling a lot and Nero has to struggle a bit to keep up. But he manages. “Down here is the hall. Last door is the bathroom, looks like a bathroom, no point in showing it unless you want to have a look.” He stops outside a door, “This is the hall closet, washer and dryer are in here. This door next to it,” He motions to the closed door just to the right, “is my room.” Before Nero has a chance to say anything and ask about the room, Dante moves on to across the hall and down a bit further. “And this,” he says with a flourish as he opens the door, “is the room up for grabs.”

Nero steps into the room in a kind of daze. It is _far_ bigger than the pictures make it look. Three beds would fit in the room comfortably and the one looks almost out of place alone in the corner. There’s a big closet on one wall, plenty of room for anything Nero could imagine wanting to put into it. And the _space_. He can almost imagine an easel in one corner and his light box in another, a table in the center of the room for any still life he may want as a subject. Or even a chair if he chooses to draw from a live subject. There are so many possibilities in the room and it’s so perfect, he can hardly breathe.

When he finally stops marveling at the space, he turns back to his host and finds a knowing smirk on his lips. Nero wants to punch it off. It’s annoying. But in the interest of saving face so he can potentially be the one to move into this room, he holds back the urge and just scowls instead. Dante’s grin only widens. “So, you like it?”

For a moment, Nero considers playing it cool, like he has other options and this is just one of many. But almost as soon as the idea comes to him, he dismisses it. It would be better to be honest. Maybe not show just how desperate it is, but honest. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good.” His eyes continue to scan the room in order to keep himself doing something other than awkwardly standing there.

“Well then, there’s only one thing left to do then!” The chipper, upbeat way he says it sets Nero on edge a little. It sounds ominous and Nero is reminded of that little ‘compatibility’ test he apparently has to pass to move in. He can’t even begin to imagine what it could be.

Nero tentatively follows Dante as he heads back out to the living room, “What’s that?”

Dante completely ignores his question and motions for him to take a seat on the couch. “Pepperoni ok?” Before Nero can even process the question, as if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. Dante grins even wider and heads to answer the door. “Make yourself at home, kid. And grab one of those controllers.”

Now Nero really has no idea what the hell is happening. There are a couple controllers for a Switch out on the coffee table that Nero had passed over on his first examination of the room. He’s barely even seen the newest console, much less played one. The last console he owned was a gamecube circa 2005, and that was a hand me down from Credo. The idea of playing the latest of consoles somewhat intimidating for Nero, considering how he grew up.

Dante comes over to join him on the couch accompanied by the smell of hot, fresh pizza. A massive pizza box is unceremoniously dropped onto the coffee table in front of Nero and Dante flops onto the couch next to him. “Finally.” The host turns toward Nero after flipping open the pizza box lid and grabbing a slice for himself. “Feel free to help yourself.” Then, after a few moments and several bites of his slice, “...Something the matter, kid?”

It’s only then that Nero realises that his posture pretty much screams ‘I’m in unfamiliar territory and am an anxious mess.’ He’s curled up in on himself, one leg tucked under himself and the other bent up against his body so he can hug it to himself. On top of his closed off position, he’s got himself jammed as far into the corner of the couch as he can. He hadn’t even noticed the way he had displayed his anxiety so obviously in his posture. It comes naturally to him to close himself off and distance himself.

He can feel his face heat at the realisation, “Oh, uh, no. I’m fine.” He forces himself to stretch out the leg he had been hugging to himself as he leans forward to take a piece of the offered pizza. Still, though, when he settles back he can’t extract himself from the corner of the couch and still catches himself using his arms to protect his body. He suddenly feels far more self conscious than he did previously.

Thanks for that, Dante.

After watching Nero take a bite of his pizza, Dante shrugs and stops staring at the guest, leaning forward to pick up one of the controllers on the table. He tosses the other, which Nero hadn’t dared touch, over next to Nero. “Come on, test time. We’re gonna play.”

A whole new onslaught of anxious thoughts assault Nero’s brain. After taking one of the slices of pizza, his hand is now covered in pizza grease. By the way Dante didn’t seem to mind his own pizza grease covered hands handling the controllers, but Nero has his own issues with touching someone else’s expensive accessory no matter how the owner of said item treats them.

So Nero stares at the controller sitting next to him while Dante goes about turning on the television and the console as if it is some kind of poisonous toad he doesn’t want to touch. In reality, he just doesn’t know where to wipe his hands so he feels alright enough touching it, but with the way his lips turn down in a thoughtful scowl, his thoughts would appear to go much deeper.

And Dante catches on. “You gonna pick it up or just stare at it like it’s going to bite you? I swear it won’t. I’m the only thing in here that bites, and that’s only if you ask real nice.”

The younger student nearly jumps out of his skin when Dante speaks to him, but he recovers quickly. Without any kind of napkin in plain sight, he quickly runs his hands down the side of his leg, using his pants as a napkin, before gingerly picking up the controller. It isn’t until then that he actually looks toward the television to see the menu for Dante’s switch up, displaying the first few games in his library. Of the titles he can see, a few are familiar and others are completely foreign to him. Dante appears to have an eclectic taste in his video games. But it’s the game that is selected which really draws his attention.

Mario Party.

It’s a much newer edition of the game than Nero’s ever played, but he is at least familiar with the format, the play style. He used to be alright at it, at least in his own mind. Credo stopped playing with him after a while when they were younger because he kept winning and Credo has always been a bit of a sore loser.

“You ever play this, kid?”

Nero is starting to get a bit annoyed at the nickname that Dante seems to insist on continuing to refer to him by, but he isn’t brave enough with his future homelessness hanging in the balance to say anything on the subject, so instead he just answers the question. “Not this one, and it’s been a while.”

“Great!” Dante’s voice booms between them, even though hardly two feet separate the two on the couch. “I figure the best way to get to know someone is with one of these friendship ruining games.” Without any more preamble, Dante selects the title card and starts the game.

The game boots up and opens into the character select screen and Nero is met with a larger line up than he’s used to for any of these games. Dante scrolls quickly over to Bowser and makes his selection. Obviously, he’s played this a few times and has his regular. Fortunately, Nero has never been a big Bowser player. He, instead, scans the character list and settles on Yoshi. Familiar, generally a good character, and honestly adorable. Dante makes a noise when Nero confirms his choice, but doesn’t comment further and Nero isn’t interested in whatever opinions Dante has.

Dante navigates through the menus easily, picking their computer partners to be easy ‘to give them a chance to just battle each other.’ Nero doesn’t really understand a lot of the menuing, not having played this version of the game before, but before long there’s a short game started and they’re rolling for turn order. Nero ends up in second with Dante going third. The elder seems to huff at this slightly, but Nero pretends he doesn’t notice.

While the first computer player makes its roll, Dante starts explaining, “Now the fancy thing about this version is each character has their own block with different numbers or effects that you can choose to use at any time rather than the standard 1-6 block. For example, mine has three sides with rolls higher than six, but the other three sides are a 1 and two lose coins sides. I think yours is all odd numbers or something, I’m not sure, never play Yoshi.”

Nero turns his head at that, a suspicious look on his face. “What do you mean you never play Yoshi? He’s the best Mario character to ever exist, what is wrong with you?”

The elder lets out a full-bodied laugh at that. He doesn’t provide an answer though, instead motioning back toward the screen, “Your turn, kid.”

For a few moments longer, Nero keeps his gaze fixed incredulously on the side of Dante’s head before finally turning back to the screen and examining his options. He checks out the board first. The star is in the bottom left, meaning everyone has to do nearly a full circuit to get close. There’s a smaller circuit at the beginning meant for gathering coins, but Nero thinks he should be able to get enough for a star without that. Hopefully.

He checks out this dice block thing Dante was going on about and finds he was right, Nero’s block is all odd numbers. Except for the 0. And it has two 3s. Not entirely un-useful, but not something to start the game with, not with that 0 looming as a possibility. So he goes with the regular block and rolls.

After the first turn, not much exciting has happened yet. The first minigame is where things start heating up. The game is chosen and it’s a four player free for all called Rattle and Hmmm. The instruction page includes a practice match, which Nero has never seen before but greatly appreciates. The concept for this minigame seems simple enough. Memorise the vibration patterns and be able to tell which one they throw at you. He can do that.

Once ready, the game starts for real. The first round is easy enough, the vibration patterns are very different and obvious. Once the test comes Nero is quick to answer it. Unfortunately, Dante is quicker and nets the first to answer point bonus, leaving Nero behind to start.

The second round is a bit tougher. All the patterns are much more similar and differ more in length and intensity than anything else. But when they have to guess, Nero is pretty sure he knows the answer and chooses accordingly. This time, he’s the first to answer, giving him the point bonus. Dante does pick up the correct answer next, though, which ties them up.

This leaves the last round of the game. Nero can feel his competitive nature starting to really affect him. He wants to win and he will do everything he can to achieve that goal. Even if his competitive nature costs him the chance to move in, he doesn’t really mind at that moment. His only thought is _win_. The vibration patterns for the round are shown off and this round is much more difficult. The patterns are mostly identical and they’re all short, so it’s hard to feel. When it’s time to choose which vibration it was, Nero is stuck between two of the options, not sure if it was hard enough to be one or long enough to be the other. Finally, he goes with his gut and chooses.

The results are revealed and Nero ends up being the only correct answer, getting him the first answer bonus and the minigame win. Dante comes in second, with the computer player trailing behind. Nero allows himself a subdued, private victory celebration while the board loads them up again for the next turn.

It takes three turns for Nero to get to the star and purchase it. Toadette moves and Nero knows Dante will probably get the next one since he has to make another entire circuit while Dante is only a few spaces away. So, instead of trying to get there (despite having a golden pipe to land him right in front of it, Nero takes a leisure stroll through the coin circuit. He’ll get the next one.

By the sixth turn, Nero has three stars and Dante has one. It’s obvious Dante is getting hyper competitive, especially when the minigames start. And he does win some of the minigames, leaving Nero privately fuming until he gets the next star. Because that’s what really matters. He ends up only really using his character dice block if he thinks rolling a potential 7 is worth essentially losing a turn if he rolls a 0. He manages to never hit a 0 with it any of the times he uses it, somehow. Dante comments on this, claiming he must somehow be cheating.

(Really he’s just salty because half the time he rolls his Bowser block he loses coins).

Nero manages to get four stars at the end of the game to Dante’s two. But anyone who has ever played a Mario Party game in their life knows that the star count at the end of the game only means so much when they give out the bonus stars afterwards. One of the bonuses given is for winning the most minigames. That ends up as a tie between Dante and Nero, earning them both an additional star. The other bonus is for the player who moved the least. That one goes to one of the computer players. This ends the game with Nero at five stars and Dante at three, securing the win for Nero.

He pumps his fist in celebration but still keeps his pleasure at his victory more or less subdued. It is Dante’s place and his game, after all, it would be rude to be a sore winner. Still, though, winning feels pretty good.

“Nice job, kid. Not many have beaten me.” Dante beams at him like he hadn’t just lost and something about it tickles Nero in a way he doesn’t like. Shouldn’t he be upset? Just moments ago, he was screaming at the screen about how bullshit the minigames were because he was losing, so why is he being such a gracious loser now?

Lost in thought, Dante’s next words take several moments to sink into Nero’s brain. “So when do you want to move in?”

Once the words actually get through to him, Nero has to stew in the shock of what they actually _mean_. Finally, dumbly, he replies, “Move in? You want me to?”

“That is what you came here for, right? I mean, I know I’m fun to sit around and play video games with, but you did come here because you need a place to live.”

Nero shakes his head at Dante’s blatant hubris. Then he looks up, more serious, “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I can start moving some stuff over starting tomorrow if you don’t mind. Should only take a day or two to get everything moved. I don’t have a car so I’ll have to carry everything-”

Dante interrupts him before he can continue, “I’ll help you out. Give me your address and I’ll be over tomorrow. You can load my car up and I can help you get everything here.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, then adds, “I’m going out tomorrow night with some friends, so you’ll have the place to yourself to settle in properly. Unless you want to come out with us?”

Go out? With his new, not quite roommate? The day after meeting? Not only is Nero not much for going out, but he’s also not really comfortable in public unless he has a safe person or a safe place. Staying in sounds like a much better idea. “Uh, thanks, but I’ll be fine staying in.”

The elder shrugs, grabbing the last piece of pizza, now cold. It doesn’t seem to both him though. “Suit yourself. Where should I go tomorrow?”

Nero asks for some paper and a pen and writes down his address for Dante, thanking him profusely for offering to help him move. He hadn’t expected that. He had been fully prepared to have to move all of his stuff by himself, carrying boxes and using his suitcases to help ease the burden. Still, he can’t say he isn’t relieved to be getting the help. It isn’t a terribly far distance between the two apartments, but for someone trying to move everything he owns, it would feel like miles.

Once logistics for meeting the next day are planned, Nero thanks Dante once more and tries to take his leave. Before he makes it to the door, though, Dante stops him. “Ah, before I forget, hold on one sec.” He disappears into the hall and rifles around in the hall closet for a moment, then comes back out clutching something in his fist. He approaches Nero and places the object into his hands. “Keys.” Dante starts pointing them out, “This one is for the front door, this one is for the mailbox, and I got a lock put on your bedroom door so that’s what that one is.”

Nero stares down at his palm, at the literal lifeline he’s just been given. The keys mean not only does he have a place to live, but he’s got a place to call his own. He can’t even begin to explain to Dante how much it means to him that there is a lock on his bedroom door, too. So he doesn't try. Instead, he closes his fist around the keys before shoving them deep into his pocket. “Thanks,” is all he can manage to come up with as a reply.

Then he leaves.


	2. Come Out to Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with chapter two, and now that it's December I can officially say this piece won NaNoWriMo! I'm really glad that I managed to do so after skipping last year and I hope the story continues to interest people. If you have any questions or what have you, you can always find me at my twitter which I always link at the bottom.

Dante shows up at Nero’s soon to be old apartment thirty minutes late. It irritates Nero, mostly because he spends that time trying to decide if Dante forgot and if Nero should just start walking some stuff over, maybe remind the guy that he did say he’d be there. But just as Nero is about to do that, there’s a knock on his door. He opens it and Dante is standing there, looking smug and pleased with himself.

If he hadn’t been desperate, Nero isn’t sure he would have agreed to live with him.

But he is desperate and honestly just glad he’s found somewhere to put his things so he doesn’t end up on the street. Because he sure as Hell isn’t going back home.

“Hey kid,” Dante greets, not even waiting for Nero to invite him in before he’s walking into the small apartment and looking around. He keeps his comments to himself though and turns back to Nero, still standing in the doorway, more or less dumbfounded. “So, where do we start?”

Something inside Nero grates against Dante’s good nature. “Everything is done except for loading it up.” He knows his tone is sneering and unfriendly, but he can’t care less. Dante was late and now he’s standing there acting like it’s been of no inconvenience and being all joyful about everything and it _irritates_ Nero. He almost adds on that everything _was_ done thirty minutes ago when Dante was _supposed_ to be here. But he manages to hold his tongue.

Dante seems oblivious to Nero’s testy tone and jovially starts piling boxes up to take them out to his car. Nero thinks he’s just showing off when he makes a tower of three boxes to carry when Nero can only get two if they aren’t too oddly shaped. They make quick work of what few possessions he owns while Nero fumes the whole time.

Once the car is loaded and Nero is sat in the passenger seat with one of the smaller boxes in his lap, Dante flashes him a satisfied grin before driving off. The drive is silent save for music playing from the radio. Classic rock, not something Nero will complain about. The lack of conversation, though, affords Nero the opportunity to examine the car he finds himself in. From the outside, it is a red convertible that makes him once again wonder what is up with Dante and his obvious wealth. The inside only serves to emphasise that, though it seems Dante also has no reverence for it.

There were no less than three pizza boxes that had to be moved out of the way while they had loaded up the car. Beer cans and empty bottles of Jack Daniels litter the floor and the leather of the seats doesn’t seem to be terribly well taken care of. In fact, the only part of the car that really does seem to be well taken care of is the stereo. The chrome on it is shiny and the buttons all look polished.

Before long, the car pulls into a spot in the parking lot of Nero’s new home and Dante cuts the engine. “Home sweet home. I’ll help you get everything inside and then I’ll leave you to it.” It’s the first thing Dante has said since arriving at Nero’s old place that he’s actually pleased about. He has no idea if he realises that the time alone in the new place is something Nero desperately needs. Not only to unpack and settle in, but also to explore and get comfortable in the new place without feeling pressured by another presence. 

Unloading the car doesn’t take terribly long and once there’s a pile of boxes in Nero’s new room, Dante gives him a bright farewell before heading back out. Once he closes the door behind him, Nero breathes in a sigh of relief as silence descends around him, feeling like a comfortable blanket on his senses. He’s already exhausted from being in Dante’s presence for not even two hours. He can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like living with the man. But at least he’ll have his own space. With a lock.

He takes a few moments to just stand there and be in the new apartment. Letting it sink in that this is his new home for the time being. Afterwards, he heads into his room and promptly locks the door.

Nero takes unpacking very slowly. He opens each box one at a time and carefully removes each item and finds a new home for it. He saves the art supplies for last, making sure everything has a proper place and that it all has a logic to it. It takes him about two hours to get everything unpacked and set up, a fresh set of sheets on the bed, his easel set up, and a place for all his filled sketchbooks.

By this point, the sun is beginning to set, leaving a pink dusk over the city. Nero breaks down the boxes and bundles them up so he can take them out to the recycling. On his way back in, he turns on some of the lights and looks around. The living room still feels foreign to him, like it still very much belongs to Dante and that he doesn’t belong there. It’s strange. But he’s got to insert himself somehow. So he goes into the kitchen and starts to unpack the one box of kitchen supplies he has.

Once the cupboards are stocked with some pots and pans and silverware and various knick knacks that he had collected since beginning school, his stomach growls loudly, reminding him he hasn’t eaten yet today. He opens the fridge, hoping Dante won’t mind if he eats some of his food since he hasn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.

The fridge is practically empty.

Well, not _empty_. It’s actually quite full. But not of anything with real _sustenance_. The door is packed full of beer. The shelves have several pizza boxes, which on further investigation, hold no more than three pieces per box. There’s some sandwich bread and a few condiments shoves in the back. Nero figured pizza was a college staple for most students, but this goes beyond what is considered even a college student diet.

Nero sneers into the fridge and starts pulling out pizza boxes. After consolidating and throwing out the pieces that looked like they might have been a little old, he manages to get it down to one box with several pieces instead of leftovers in several boxes. It frees up a lot of space. That done, Nero reaches for the bread and prays it isn’t covered in mold. It appears to be safe and Nero is pretty sure he saw some peanut butter in one of the cabinets. He has to do a bit of searching, but he finds it and manages to make himself a meager peanut butter sandwich. At least it’s something until Nero can do some actual grocery shopping.

Briefly, Nero flips through channels on the television, trying to find something to occupy his mind. But it doesn’t take long before Nero feels entirely out of place and that he’s intruding on something that isn’t his. So, instead, he retreats back to his room, where he is at least surrounded by what is definitively his.

Without a television as background noise, Nero pulls out his headphones and plays some music while he pulls out his most recent sketchbook and starts letting his arm start translating whatever comes to his mind onto paper.

\--

Sometime after one in the morning, Nero’s eyes catch lights coming from under the door. Moments later, he can hear Dante’s voice despite the power of his headphones. Not caring to hear whatever drunken adventures Dante is on, Nero turns his music up a little louder and focuses harder on the piece he’s working on. This is a sketch he returns to and redoes every now and then, something he’d like to add to his arm at some point. There’s space along his inner forearm where the tangle of thorns could wind easily around what is already there and end at the intricate petals of a rose.

Three hard knocks at his bedroom door startle him in such a way that his pencil tears across the page with more pressure than anything else on the page, effectively ruining the sketch. Once more, Nero fumes in Dante’s general direction. He yanks his headphones down around his neck before yelling toward the door, “What!”

“You still up, kid? Light’s on. Come out, meet the girls.”

Nero has no desire to come out and ‘meet the girls,’ whoever they may be. He doesn’t want to meet whatever conquest Dante has brought home and he sure doesn’t want to have to interact with the clearly drunk man. But he’s still new and he feels obligated. Plus, Dante continues knocking and Nero isn’t going to get any peace unless he humours him.

With a growl, he sets his sketchbook aside and turns off his music. He doesn’t bother removing the headphones from around his neck, though, knowing he’ll likely need them once he’s permitted to retreat back to his room once more. As he walks across the room, he can hear a feminine voice saying something, but being much quieter than Dante’s brash voice, he can’t quite make out the words.

He really doesn’t want to do this.

Nero opens the door to find Dante with his fist raised, ready to knock again. His happy grin widens into a beaming smile, appearing completely oblivious to Nero’s sour expression. “Nero!” He grabs Nero’s shoulder, ushering him out of the bedroom before throwing an arm around his shoulder. Nero does his best not to react, but the sudden invasion of personal space has him tense anyway. “Everyone is dying to meet you!” Nero doubts that, but if this will get Dante off his back, then sure.

Dante leads him out in the main room where _three_ women are standing. He wonders briefly if he really intends to have them all in his bed that night and if his headphones are good enough to keep those sounds out of his ears. Before he can think too hard on it, though, Dante starts introductions.

“This is Trish and Lady, they’re a set most of the time. They used to live in your room. Get used to them, they have a key and they’ll probably be here a lot.” Dante’s voice is surprisingly even considering how thoroughly he smells of alcohol. He motions toward the girls sitting together on the couch. One, the one he introduced as Lady, is petite with short, dark hair and mismatched eyes. She looks friendly enough and gives him an apologetic smile, clearly seeing the way Nero is uncomfortable where Dante doesn’t.

The girl sitting next to her, with an arm draped over the back of the couch, looks oddly familiar. She’s got long blonde hair and is dressed in all black. Nero looks at her oddly for a moment before it hits him. She had been the one that left the apartment the day before right as Nero had arrived to meet Dante. So, her name is Trish, and apparently is a frequent visitor. And Nero is realising that her and Lady are not there for bedroom romps with Dante. That must be reserved for the last girl in the room. Trish gives Nero a wave, “Sorry about him, Nero.” He appreciates that these girls at least recognise that he doesn’t really want to do this right now, but that doesn’t make the way Dante pulls him around any better.

The man in question nearly cuts her off in order to speak again. He pulls the third girl toward him with his other arm, “And this lovely creature is Siobhan. Isn’t she pretty?”

From what little Nero can see from the odd angle Dante has put him and the girl at, sure, she’s pretty. She’s got bright red, curly hair and a smattering of freckles on pale skin. But Nero isn’t much of a judge. He has never been particularly interested in women. The only time he even tried was back in high school when he and Kyrie had a very brief, experimental relationship. They had kissed a couple times, chaste simple contact. After about two weeks, Nero couldn’t handle it anymore and didn’t want to lead her on so he told her he only really saw her as more of a sister.

“Hi, Nero.” The girl, Siobhan, waves demurely at him from the other side of Dante and he’s pretty sure if he offered she would be more than happy to have him join them for whatever late night activities Dante is planning for her when everyone else goes to bed. Not that he ever would. Still, Nero offers a wave in reply. He’s not an ass. Usually.

“Great! Everybody is friends now. Who wants shots?” Finally, Dante releases Nero and pushes him toward the couch to sit with Lady and Trish. He’s practically forced there by momentum and barely lands with dignity.

“Dante…” Trish starts, but the man is already pulling glasses out of cupboards and pouring more vodka onto the counter than into the glasses. Siobhan takes her glass happily, waiting for everyone else to get theirs in hand before drinking. Lady takes hers without a word and Trish shoots Dante a look before taking hers. Nero only takes a glass because he’s pretty sure it would end up all over himself if he doesn’t.

Dante takes the remaining glass, which isn’t a shot glass but rather a tumbler with probably more like three shots worth of the clear alcohol. He stands in the middle of the room, glass raised high and calls for a toast. “To… Friends! New and old. And a crazy awesome party!” He looks like he’s going to say something else, but thinks better of it and knocks back his drink in one gulp.

Siobhan takes her shot with a giggle and tries to hide the way she winces at the burn. Lady takes hers in one swallow without looking like she’s any worse for wear. In fact, she hardly looks flushed from drinking. If she hadn’t just come with Dante from an obvious night out, Nero would guess she hadn’t even been drinking. Trish takes her’s similarly, though she has the telltale blush of someone that has spent the night drinking, despite her even tone and clear eyes.

Nero doesn’t want to take the shot he’s been given. Vodka has a lot of connotations for Nero. The smell of it reminds him of his mom, her drink of choice. He remembers bottles stinking of the stuff all over the house, being thrown in his direction. He remembers the stench of her breath when she screamed at him. Still, it’s also the alcohol he has the most personal experience with, being so easy to get ahold of without his mother noticing. He’s familiar with the burn and the taste and how to drink it without looking like a complete ass.

So he does.

The stuff burns on the way down, but Nero can tell it’s much better quality than any of the stuff he’s pilfered from his mom. More evidence that Dante has disposable wealth. Somehow. It’s something Nero makes a mental note to try to learn more about.

A clap on the back shocks Nero into straightening his back and almost sends him into a panic before he takes a breath and realises that it’s just Dante, congratulating him on taking his shot ‘like a champ.’ Nero makes a little sound to indicate he’s at least… sort of present in the moment.

“Well Dante, Lady and I should get home, we’ll see you later. Don’t stay up too late, don’t sleep in too much, and eat something that resembles real food at some point.” Trish stands and holds her hand out to help Lady up as well. Their hands twine together and Lady leans into Trish.

Dante makes this face that is dripping with faux sadness. “So soon, ladies? But the party is just getting started.”

Trish smirks and Nero catches her arm circle around Lady’s waist and she must do something because Lady’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. “Oh, I know it is, but my plans for the night do _not_ include you.”

Again, Dante lays on the fake emotion, this time playing hurt. “I housed you for five years and this is the thanks I get, I see how it is!” But his smile betrays his true thoughts, and he quickly amends his words. “See ya later, girls. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

The tall blonde leads her girlfriend toward the door, “Yeah, that only eliminates things even the devil would shirk at.” With one final wave, the girls take their leave from the apartment and Nero is left alone with Dante and his… Nero doesn’t even know what to call her. He’s sure she’s a lovely girl, but he’s got no interest in whatever Dante plans on doing with her for the night.

Nero sets the glass down on the coffee table in front of him. He starts to stand in the hopes to make a quiet escape back to his room. Unfortunately, Dante seems to have other plans. “Aw, you’re leaving us too, Nero? What, not into fun?”

He scoffs at that. More like not into Dante’s brand of fun, but he’s not sure saying that would be a good idea. “I’m just… tired. It’s late.”

Again, Dante lays on his exaggerated emotions. This time he pouts, “But the night is still young!” After a moment, Dante looks Nero over and something seems to click behind his eyes. “Well, suit yourself. If you change your mind, I’m sure Siobhan here wouldn’t mind if you wanted to join us.” He looks over at her and she flashes Nero a shy smile, one that he’s pretty sure is not actually quite so shy, but rather an attempt to hook and entice him. Too bad for her, that’s the last thing on his mind.

“Uh, yeah, thanks but no thanks,” Nero murmurs. And this time, he actually manages to extract himself from the uncomfortable situation and hide behind his bedroom door once more. Once behind is, Nero immediately throws the lock. He doesn’t want a hungover Siobhan to wander in unexpectedly during the night looking for the bathroom.

Finally.

Peace and quiet and the safety of being alone. The night has turned into a whirlwind of activity he hadn’t planned for and it has _exhausted_ him. Nero has a hard enough time with one on one interaction with people he knows well, being practically forced to take a shot with a room full of people he’s mostly never met before with not even one person he’s particularly comfortable with takes a lot out of him. He’s relieved to finally be alone again where he can recharge.

Telling Dante he was tired was less than honest, but it got him out and back in his room. Still, he’s not actually very tired, despite the late hour. He ventures back over to his bed and replaces his headphones before getting his sketchbook. When he opens it, he finds the page he had been working on, with a dark line maring the page. Nero sneers deeply at the memory of Dante startling him enough to ruin the piece and turns to a fresh page.

His mind goes blank and his pencil starts flicking across the page. Before too long, a pair of eyes start to stare back at him from the page. And then another. It takes him a moment to realise that he’s drawing the eyes of the people that were in the living room that night. The first pair belong to Lady. Big, one shaded dark while the other is left light to illustrate her heterochromia even in grayscale. The second pair are Trish’s. They’re smaller, intense. He wishes he had his coloured pencils so he could try to replicate the icy blue. Her stare is this odd mixture of wild and nurturing. Nero finds himself really wanting to trust those eyes. His third pair is of the girl he likely won’t see again unless she’s still there when he decides to show his face in the morning. Siobhan’s eyes are soft and doe-y. Nero is sure they bring in plenty of unsuspecting guys. They have this hardness behind them that speaks to her deviancy; she’s not as pure as she lets on.

And then there are Dante’s eyes. They… are wild, for sure. Nero thinks he’s captured the way the alcohol swims in his eyes. But there’s something else there. Something else that Nero can’t figure out and his pencil can’t quite seem to capture. He ends up spending the most time on this pair of eyes. The paper beneath them becomes thin from erasing and drawing and erasing again. At one point, they appear to judge him, at another they mock him, once more and they appear inviting. But they’re never right. It bothers Nero how long he spends drawing and redrawing those eyes. But he can’t get them _right_. And that bothers him even more.

Eventually, he scribbles over the complicated pair of eyes and gives up with a huff of frustration. He turns off his music and puts his headphones and sketchbook away. That’s enough of that for the night. He has work later in the day and should try to get in at least a few hours of sleep before the sun rises.

Nero lays down in bed, curling himself into a ball facing the door. It makes him feel better that the door is locked, but he still knows that his brain could decide at any moment that demons from his past will break through. He tries to clear his head of the dark thoughts and settles into the bed with sleep in mind.

He’s just about there, just about to let sleep take him, when he hears a creaking. And then a repetitive deep knocking sounds. And then the moans. He should have guessed the walls would be thin enough that he would be able to hear Dante’s late night activities, but he had hopes he would be safe. No such luck. Nero considers knocking on the door, ruining the moment. But he thinks harder on it and figures Dante would just invite him in and continue on as if nothing had changed, so Nero scratches that option out and pulls his pillow over his head.

That only helps so much. Which is to say, almost not at all. It only takes a few moments before Nero hears a long drawn out moan of “Dante” for him to wish he couldn’t hear at all. Frustrated, he puts his pillow back beneath his head and reaches over to find his headphones. He hates sleeping in them, it’s not very comfortable and he is always worried he’ll break them during the night and he can’t really afford to replace them. But desperate times and all. He fits them over his ears and gives hardly a moment’s consideration before he puts on some music to drown out the sounds from the other room. He can still hear a muffled banging sound but with the music, he can mostly tune it out. Finally he can try to sleep again.

\--

Morning comes too soon for Nero, but he’s never been able to really sleep in too much. Always up by eight no matter what. Waking up in a new place is disorienting at first. Nero doesn’t recognise the walls of the smell of the blankets. Everything is foreign and strange. But when the fog of sleep clears enough, Nero remembers where he is. He moved to a new apartment, into a big room. He’s safe and no one is going to burst through the locked door hurt him.

Although, the sound coming from across the hall he could do without. Nero has no idea if they are still going or if they just woke up early for more opportunities to go at it. Nor does he give a damn. He just hopes they shut up shoon. For now, he readies himself and heads toward the bathroom.

Nero takes his time showering. Part of him wants to steal all the hot water and make Dante shower in the cold, just out of spite. But mostly, it just feels nice to stand under the warm rain and clean himself of the previous day. And it helps that the sound of the water drowns out whatever sounds Dante and Siobhan might be making.

When he finally turns off the water, he’s warm and pruned. He wraps a towel around his waist while he brushes his teeth. Afterwards, he dresses and when he opens the door, he realises it’s much quieter than it was when he woke up. It’s a small relief, but a relief nonetheless. It probably means they’ve fallen asleep and Nero is safe to be in the living room for a bit, where he can have another unsatisfying sandwich and start planning what kinds of things to buy from the grocery store.

He’s halfway through his sandwich when he hears some shuffling behind him. He turns to find Siobhan, looking very sleepy and very satisfied, standing at the entrance to the hall. “Uhmm,” she starts, scratching at her head like she’s nervous or something. “Nero, right? Sorry I don’t remember last night all that well.” Of course she doesn’t, she was drunk as hell and probably had better things to think about during the night. Nero doesn’t say anything and she continues with an awkward smile. “Ah, could I get some water?”

Nero _almost_ replies that it isn’t his place and he doesn’t care, but then he remembers that _is_ his place. He still doesn’t care, but he holds his tongue on that detail. Instead, he holds his hand toward the sink, “All yours.”

He probably would have gotten her a glass and filled it under different circumstances, but he’s irritable and he has the added excuse that he’s still too unfamiliar with the cupboard layout. Siobhan walks up to him and apparently sees an opportunity. In her search for a glass, she reaches up to a high shelf, making her shirt ride up her side and showing off a large amount of skin. Nero can see what she’s doing, especially when she spends a lot of time up there and when she finally locates a glass, she leans over the sink to push her ass out. She even gives it a bit of a wiggle. Nero glances at her with a raised eyebrow but then returns to his list making. She can show off as much as she likes, but she’s never going to make him interested. He considers telling her to save it for Dante, but thinks better of it.

After she’s had her drink, she starts walking back toward the hall, but stops short and turns back to Nero. “Bathroom is the end of the hall, right?”

Nero looks at her once more and nods before returning back once again to his list making. He hears her huff something that is probably frustration before her footsteps can be heard moving down the hall. When the door closes Nero lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

When his list is made, Nero grabs his keys and his wallet and heads out to the store.

\--

Nero makes it back from the grocery store a couple hours later. His arms are tired and he’s a little worried some of his stuff is getting too warm, but he’s made it back and finally is able to put down all the bags on the kitchen floor. It takes him some time to get everything put away, especially because he has to do more rearranging of things in the fridge to make room for some actual food.

He’s just finishing putting away the last bag of spices when he hears some shuffling from the hall and a door close. By the time he turns around, there is no one, so Nero assumes someone made it into the bathroom again. He’s a little surprised he hasn’t seen Dante yet this morning, it’s getting to be late, even for someone who stayed up all night.

Nero has almost made it to his door when the bathroom door swings open and Dante, damp and with only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, emerges from the steamy atmosphere. He smiles and waves at Nero, looking rather chipper. Nero, on the other hand, can feel his cheeks heat. It’s not that there’s anything _particularly_ special about Dante standing there practically naked. Nero just tends to get embarrassed easily. And it doesn’t help that Dante seems to somehow, magically, be cut to Hell and back. And his towel looks like it’s a light breeze away from falling away and leaving Nero staring awkwardly at his dick.

“Hey, kid-” Before Nero hears what the rest of whatever Dante was going to say is, he slams his bedroom door and disappears so that he can hide from the potential disaster.


	3. Amount to More Than This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my friend is having a real awful week so I'm posting early to help cheer her up. Plus this chapter is really long so you get extra time to read it.

Nero’s sophomore year of university starts a week later and suddenly he doesn’t see much of the apartment or his roommate. He is honestly more or less alright with that. It’s not that he doesn’t like Dante, it’s more that Dante is exhausting and way too much. With school taking up some of his time and studio time taking up even more, and then work in what little he has left, Nero is busy nearly all the time and has not much downtime.

Still, Dante tries to get him to go out often enough. He always asks if Nero wants to join him to go out to the bar or to some party he’s been invited to. Nero never agrees, but Dante doesn’t ever seem to be offended, but he doesn’t give up either. Still, despite how little Nero sees of the man, he is getting to know Dante a bit better. He doesn’t know any fine details or the mysterious source of all his money. But he knows he likes pizza, doesn’t like olives, sleeps as late as he possibly can, and is actually kind of nice.

Nero does, however, manage to get a lot closer to the girls that used to share his room. Lady and Trish are easy to talk to. Trish acts like the mother he never had, actually caring for him and chastising Dante for teasing him or for ordering a pizza for the fourth time in one day. And Lady… She’s the other undergrad of the group, much closer in age to Nero than Dante or Trish. And there’s just something about her that makes Nero feel… safe. She never pushes him or tries to get in his space and she respects the boundaries he sets out.

Overall, Nero is actually enjoying his new home. He told Kyrie as much when she called last and she sounded really pleased that he’s been settling in well. But she also encouraged him to get out more, stop cooping himself up in the studio or his room and try to interact with people. He knows she’s right, too.

So when someone from one of his classes asks if he wants to go out for a few drinks with a couple of friends, he begrudgingly agrees.

It’s rare he has a night free in which he can even go out, much less that he’ll take the opportunity. But the guys that take him out seem pretty cool and it’s not some big party, just a few guys and a bar and chatting. He can do that, especially when the alcohol hits his system. And it won’t take much of that to have him pleasantly buzzed.

He meets his classmate at the bar and is introduced to two other guys. They’re both engineering majors that apparently went to high school with his classmate. They get a table in the middle of the room and order a round of beer.

The conversation is decent, although Nero feels a little out of his depth when the engineers get to talking about classes. Nero’s art classes are far and few between, most of his time is spent actually doing art and completing assignments. He’s got several portfolios he has to complete each semester so without the studio time, he would be lost.

It doesn’t take long before the guys start talking about women, and that is when Nero really feels out of his depth. He hides behind his glass and tries to disappear while they discuss their conquests and past girlfriends. They even start rating some of the girls around the bar.

And then a couple of girls come over to their table, giggling furiously, and strike up conversation. It’s about then when Nero decides he really doesn’t want to be there anymore. He feels very much on the outside of the group. The other guys are all engaging with the girls, clearly trying to pick which one they were going to try to get to go home with them. Nero shoves himself as far into the corner as he can and sips at the last dregs of his beer, wishing for an escape.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore and nudges his classmate that he needs to get out of the booth and use the restroom. He barely even acknowledges Nero as he gets up out of the booth, using it as an opportunity to further his flirting, touching one of the girl’s arms and offering her a seat. Well, looks like they won’t mind if he never returns. Good.

Nero heads toward the back of the bar and opens his phone. He’s pretty far from the apartment and he’s buzzed enough he doesn’t really want to chance walking home. But his options for someone to pick him up are pretty limited. He scrolls through his contacts and passes right over Dante’s name. He doesn’t care to have him rib at him for bowing out from the bar when the girls showed up. Plus, Dante doesn’t even know that he’s not into girls. Not because he’s really hiding it, but he doesn’t really talk about it.

His only other real option is to ask one of the girls. His first instinct is to ask Trish, he knows she’s got a car and would probably be willing. But he remembers she was busy that night. Some teaching thing for her degree. So that leaves Lady. There are definitely worse options, so he sends her a text asking if she’s busy at all before going into the bathroom. He really does need to use it.

It only takes moments for his phone to buzz with a reply from Lady. **’Not really, need something?’** Nero taps back, **’Could really use a ride if you’re up for it, I’ll buy you dinner.’** Seconds later, another text comes in, **’No payment necessary, where are you?’** Nero smirks, unlike Lady to accept to do a favour without demanding payment in return. Or maybe that’s just for Dante that she does that. Nero snorts a laugh at that. He texts her the address before leaving the bathroom. He heads back to the booth, bidding the group of people farewell. One of the girls makes a sound at his leaving to indicate she’s sad he’s leaving, but the guys all look a little relieved that he isn’t going to add into the competition for the two girls between the three of them.

Lady shouldn’t take too long to get to the bar. It’s a long walk, but by vehicle it’s maybe five minutes. Nero figures waiting out front in the pleasant fall air will be fine. He busies himself with reading the ads plastered to a nearby telephone poll. Most of them are normal, serious ads for lost pets or services, but some of them are silly and make Nero smile a bit.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes, indicating a phone call. Assuming it’s Lady looking for the bar, Nero reaches into his pocket and hits the green answer button without even looking at the screen.

“Nero.”

His whole body freezes up. That is not Lady. The nasal tone over what would otherwise be a fairly deep voice, the way it practically sneers over his name. He knows that voice. He knows that voice far too well.

And just to make his life even worse, he can spot Trish’s car approaching from around the corner. Lady must have used it instead of her bike, maybe Trish has her bike, it doesn’t really matter to Nero in that moment because this means Lady will be here while Nero is talking to _him_.

“Nero. Are you there?”

His voice assaults his ears again and it sends a shiver up his spine. He nods, before he remembers that he is on the phone and the man can’t actually see him. “Yeah.” He wants nothing more than to just hang up on him, but at this point it would be worse to do that than to just suffer through the conversation.

Lady rolls her window down and waves at Nero. She must see he’s on the phone because she doesn’t call for him. He woodenly walks over to the car and gets into the passenger side while his stepfather speaks to him.

“It’s been a while, darling. You never come home to visit.” Nero breathes heavily, hating the way the nickname still affects him, even from the supposedly safe distance between him and his mother’s house. He can’t think of anything to say so he doesn’t try, letting his stepfather continue on with whatever it is he wants. “Your mother misses you, you know.” _Fat chance, she just misses having someone to beat on and go out and buy her cigarettes when she runs out._ He isn’t stupid enough to say as much, though. “She wants you to come home and visit. So do I, we miss you so, darling boy. Why don’t you come back for Halloween, we can all dress up together.”

Nero knows that he has much different plans if he were to go back home. He knows he has to for Christmas and Easter, but he doesn’t have any real obligations besides then. But Grant isn’t going to accept that he doesn’t want to come. He has to come up with something. And now. “Oh, uh, my- ah- my roommate is planning something for Halloween, I’ve got to help him out.”

“Him?” Nero hates the way Grant sounds so interested in his excuse. “What happened to dear Kyrie?” He pauses but before Nero can swallow the knot in his throat to answer, he continues, “Oh, right. She went off to follow her dreams. I’ve heard she’s been quite successful so far. Too bad you couldn’t go, too.” Nero knows how to read between the lines. He’s calling him unsuccessful, implying he will never amount to anything. He’s used to it from both Grant and his mom, but that doesn’t make it any nicer to hear.

“Yeah. Uh, I’m sorta in the middle of something, is there something you want?” He can’t keep the hardness out of his voice, even as he smiles apologetically to Lady.

Nero can hear the man smile, “Just wanted to hear your voice, darling. Don’t stay away too long.” Then, thankfully, the line cuts and Nero lets out a breath he had been holding. He collapses against the seat and his head falls into his hands. He has to take several deep breaths to calm himself after the surprise phone call.

Lady glances over to him as she drives off, “Everything alright, Nero?”

He looks over at her without lifting his head, “Fine.” He knows it’s stupid to lie. She can clearly see how affected he is from the call. But she doesn’t press. He had been counting on that, her tendency not to invade when he doesn’t volunteer information. Still, he feels like at least a little explanation is necessary. “Just my stepdad.”

The girl behind the wheel nods and Nero thinks that it might even be in understanding. He’s tempted to get upset, knowing that no one can really understand what he’s been through and how much that man has done to him. But he doesn’t want to yell at Lady. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and now she gets to see him vulnerable from one of the few people that are always capable of breaking him down.

The car ride is silent, not even any music playing on the radio. When Lady pulls into the apartment parking lot, Nero unbuckles himself and turns to open the door, but Lady’s voice stops him. “My parents are dead. Did you know that?”

Nero stops and turns back to face her, looking at her with the most bizarre, confused expression. That’s quite the opener. And Nero’s temper starts to rise. So what? He _wishes_ his parents were dead. They couldn’t hurt him in the ground. If she thinks that’s going to make him magically relate to her, just because her parents are dead, she’s _wrong_. He doesn’t need to relate to her on this, he just needs to go curl up in bed and drown out the memories of the man that called him.

He’s just about to turn back to the door when she speaks again. “No, you wouldn’t. I don’t tell people. Trish and Dante know, mind you. But they’re the only ones. I hate seeing the sympathy people show when they find out. And it just gets worse when they find out what actually happened.” She takes a deep breath, staring very intently at the steering wheel. Nero is still lost as to why she’s telling him this. He doesn’t care.

“My father killed my mother. And then himself.”

Oh.

Nero’s first instinct is to feel like shit. Even though he hadn’t opened his mouth, he had just spent the first part of Lady’s story thinking about how little she understands of him and how much he doesn’t care about her dead parents. But then he remembers that she doesn’t like sympathy and he looks down at his lap, not sure what to do now.

“I told you that… I told you because I want you to know you aren’t alone. I don’t know what you’ve been through or what your own personal brand of Hell is at home. But I’ve been through a lot. Before my dad did that, he did a lot more. To me. It sucks to have to carry that alone.” She finally looks over to him and Nero can’t help but look back at her. She gives him a smile almost resembling her normal happy self, “I’m here for you.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never met anyone who could even come close to relating to his home life. And he still doesn’t know if Lady really _can_ , but she’s a hell of a lot closer to understanding than anyone who grew up with good, happy parents in a comfy life. She was vague about what happened, and Nero isn’t about to be the biggest hypocrite in the universe by asking about it. But his lips turn up, a small appreciative smile. “Thanks, Lady.”

Lady’s smile widens and she beams at him, “Now get yourself to bed, and don’t trip over the door jam!”

Nero huffs an annoyed laugh but smiles to show he doesn’t mean it. This time, when he turns back to the door, he actually opens it and leaves. He waves at Lady as she pulls away before letting himself into the apartment he shares with Dante.

“Hey, kid,” Dante greets when he comes in. He’s lounging on the couch with a pizza box in his lap and a piece in his hand. The TV is on, sounds like some cop procedural. Classic Dante. Except for the part where he’s _home_.

Nero walks in, brash in his slight inebriation. “Didn’t expect you to be home, aren’t you usually out around this time?” He sits down next to Dante and steals a piece of his pizza.

Dante shrugs, not seeming to mind the pizza theft. At the very least, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Eh, felt like staying in tonight. Surprised you went out. You never do, or is it just when I ask?”

He says it in a jovial enough tone that Nero is pretty sure he doesn’t really think Nero only denies him, but it still makes him feel kind of bad. Dante has really been nothing but nice to him, despite how he grates on Nero’s nerves, and there’s no reason to be dismissive to him. “Nah, I’m just not one for going out. Only went cuz my old roommate basically begged me.”

Dante looks at him oddly but before Nero thinks to ask about it, the older student turns back toward the TV, “Ever watch this show? Pretty good. Totally inaccurate, but pretty good.”

“And what would you know about the intricacies of police work?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Nero.” He smirks, grabbing the last slice of pizza from the box. Mysterious. But Nero doesn’t ask. He’d rather not get into it and the show grabs his attention anyway. It’s kind of nice to just sit together and watch TV for a bit. It’s a lot more Nero’s pace and there’s a comfortable silence between them. They chat during commercials sometimes and Nero convinces Dante that no, he doesn’t need to order /another/ pizza. Dante offers him some alcohol and they end up drinking a bit. Nero takes it easy though, he’s already a bit tipsy and doesn’t want a massive hangover in the morning.

When the marathon of the show they had been watching ends, Dante switches off the television and stretches his arms over his head with a big yawn. Nero glances at his phone only to find that it is much later than he thought. Dante rolls his head and looks over at him, “Well, I’m beat, kid. See ya tomorrow.”

Nero gives him a wave as he gets up and heads into the hall, disappearing into his bedroom. Nero sits there in the silence for a moment, before getting up and doing the same, turning off the lights on his way.

\--

The coming of fall and the cooling of the air means sweaters, coffee, and midterms. The art building has Halloween decorations up everywhere, student and staff creations. Nero spends even more time in the building, studying for his midterms. They aren’t terribly worrying, but he does want to do well and one of his classes is art history which is basically learning about a lot of dead white guys from Europe. And when he isn’t in the art building studying, he’s working on the projects he has due for midterms.

Work takes up most of the rest of his time. He’s trying to watch more tattoos being done and help out around the shop in less administrative ways to learn. He’s not officially an apprentice or anything, but he hopes putting in the part time reception work in will give him a foot in the door when he’s ready to start an apprenticeship. He really likes the tattoo shop, it feels right. It’s a place where his art can combine with his individuality. It’s something he thinks he will be good at and could make a living doing.

Today is a busy day in the shop, which means not much opportunity for Nero to watch because he’s busy taking calls and checking people in and getting consent paperwork. A whirlwind of people are in getting tattoos for Halloween or getting one of the flash tattoos being offered by the shop as a fundraiser. Nero is already exhausted and he’s only been in for an hour.

Another customer walks in and Nero has to tell them it will be a moment without even actually looking at them because of a phone call he’s fielding. A past client is worried about the healing process, thinking their tattoo is infected, so Nero is guiding them through what to do about it. It takes another five minutes to calm the person on the other end of the line down enough that they probably are not infected and the things they are experiencing are part of the normal healing process. He reminds them of proper care but does mention that if they are really worried they should go see a doctor.

Finally he hangs up the phone and looks over at the person that had walked in. “Sorry about that, how can I help you.”

The girl standing before him looks vaguely familiar. It’s not uncommon for people from the university to come into the shop. It’s pretty close and has a good reputation. Especially the younger students who are getting a rebellion tattoo after getting out from their parents’ house. So Nero just assumes he’s seen her around school and dismisses the feeling of familiarity.

“Nero? You’re Nero, right?”

Oh no. She recognises him. Even knows his name. Now he has to pretend he knows who she is. “Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m not sure I know your name.”

“I didn’t know you worked here! We had Beginning Art together last year.” She leans into the reception desk, smiling at him. He doesn’t really remember anyone from that class, it was a formality for him, something he shouldn’t have had to take, in his opinion. But he believes her.

“Ah, yeah. What brings you in?” It’s much less of a conversational topic and more him attempting to gear it back toward his job. He doesn’t want to chat with this girl he barely remembers.

She leans back again, “Oh, I have a consult with Jerry.”

Nero looks through the date book in front of him and locates the appointment, and thus, her name. She’s early and Jerry is still finishing up his last tattoo with a client. Great. “Ah, you’re early, Amanda. If you want to just have a seat, Jerry will be right with you when he’s finished with his client.”

She looks behind her to the line of chairs against the wall where there are already two people sitting and waiting for their own chances to talk to an artist. For a second, Nero actually thinks she’s going to go sit down and wait patiently. But then she turns back to look at him and smiles. “Hey, you live with Dante, right?”

Nero sighs, “Yeah.”

Amanda grins, “He’s amazing isn’t he? What’s it like to live with him? I hear so much about him from the upperclassmen.”

“He’s a pretty normal guy. Eats too much pizza.”

She laughs like Nero’s assessment is the funniest thing in the world. “You’re so lucky, Nero. I heard a ton of people tried to answer his ad for a roommate. But he turned everyone away.”

That’s interesting information. Nero had thought the process for securing the extra room in Dante’s apartment was fairly simple and easy, as if he’d been as desperate as Nero had been to find somewhere to live. He didn’t know that he was one of many applicants. That he had somehow beaten the odds. “Ah, yeah, I guess.”

Before he suffers her small talk any further, Jerry leads his client out, complete with a brand new tattoo, and introduces himself to Amanda, taking her further back into the shop to complete her consultation. Nero sighs again, glad for the reprieve. Though he only has a moment’s rest before the phone rings once more.

It’s twenty minutes before Amanda is led back to the front of the shop. She shakes Jerry’s hand and then turns to Nero. “We made an appointment for next week.” Nero takes the details from her and puts it in the planner. Once finished, he expects her to leave. But instead she looks at him thoughtfully. “You know… I’m having this party for Halloween. It would be really cool if you could come.” She hesitates, like she knows the next part isn’t going to be well received. “You should bring Dante, too.” Ah. Nero gets the distinct impression he isn’t really welcome /unless/ he brings Dante. He also gets the impression that he is going to become a pariah if he doesn’t concede.

“Um, sure, I’ll ask him.” She grins, probably pleased at the prospect of a popular graduate student coming to her party. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of paper. She uses Nero’s pen to scribble the details down and gives the scrap to Nero.

“Looking forward to seeing you there!” She gives him another smile before finally leaving the shop.

Nero looks down at the page. The party is in a house on the outskirts of town. She’s either really well off or is doing a house share with some other students. Not that Nero much cares one way or the other. The location just means that he’d have to take Dante to go anyway because he doesn’t have a car to get there.

He pockets the scrap and promptly forgets about it for the rest of his shift.

The slip of paper remains forgotten about until he’s sitting back at home and reaching in his pocket for his phone. The paper caresses his skin and he briefly wonders what it is, confused. When he pulls it out, he remembers the conversation with the girl and her loopy handwriting directing him to the party. He remembers her asking him to bring Dante along, come enjoy the party.

Halloween is one of the few times of year that Nero really enjoys. He finds it enjoyable to dress up and become someone else for a night. Being able to leave his anxieties behind and just revel in the idea of being a little spooky. Even still, parties are not places he is usually found at. But he understood the unspoken hint that he is _expected_ to show up at this party _with_ Dante. And Dante will probably not even mind, he might even be happy about it. He can always hope Dante won’t want to and that he can use that as an excuse not to go, but he doubts that would work even if Dante was likely to say no.

He sighs heavily, tossing the paper to the coffee table. Guess he’ll have to bring that up later.

Later ends up being much sooner than Nero expects. He’s in the kitchen making a snack before bed when he hears keys at the door and Dante comes in, along with Trish. They are mid conversation and Nero more or less ignores them for the time being.

“What’s this?”

“Hmm?” Nero asks, turning out of the kitchen to look toward Dante, who had asked the question. Seeing him holding the paper he had left on the table earlier, understanding washes over Nero. “Oh, someone from school came into the shop today and invited us to a Halloween party.” He looks at Trish, “I’m sure you and Lady could come, too, if you want.”

Trish smiles, “Ah, Lady and I have other plans for Halloween. But you boys have fun!”

“Nero ‘captain of no fun allowed’ is willing to go to a big Halloween party,” he glances back down at the paper, “on the edge of town?”

Nero frowns and wishes he was a bit closer so he could punch Dante’s smug little smirk off his face, “I sure don’t fucking have to.”

Dante holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m down to party for the Devil’s night.” Dante raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Who’d this invite come from, eh, kid? A crush?”

Again, Nero frowns. And since his food is finished, he takes it and ignores Dante’s comment and leaves him and Trish standing in the living room. He hears Dante laugh and make a comment, but he really doesn’t care.

\--

Halloween comes up much faster than Nero is prepared for. He had only just finished handing in his midterm projects and realised that he still needs to come up with some kind of costume for this party he’s been essentially dragged into. He doesn’t have much money to buy anything but he’s determined to come up with something interesting because he can at least do that.

He spends one of his rare days off in a craft store browsing for some things that he can put together into something interesting. Most of his plans revolve around some simple paper mache because it’s cheap and easy enough. He picks up any materials he thinks he might need as well as some cheap paints so he doesn’t have to use his good art paints he has for class. While he’s wandering the aisles, an idea starts forming more solidly in his head for what he’s going to do and how he’s going to create a simple costume to emphasise what he’s decided is going to be his main piece.

By the time Nero makes it back home, he actually finds himself excited to get started on his project. He’s been so busy with projects for school and working, he hasn’t really had the chance to work on anything for himself lately, so he welcomes the opportunity to let his creativity flow in a way that really only benefits him and his desires.

Nero immediately starts working, locking himself in his bedroom for the rest of the day to start forming the basic structure of the major part of his costume. He loses himself and loses track of time while he works, carefully laying strips of newspaper covered in sticky liquid over each other in different directions to create a stronger structure.

A knock at the door startles him and almost makes him ruin the bit he had been working on at the time. “Hey, kid, you in there?”

Dante. Of course. “Yeah, give me a sec.” He sets his work aside and looks around at the disaster his floor has become. He’s spread out all over, bits and pieces of his plan scattered around the room. He has no chance of cleaning it all up before opening the door so he elects to just try to keep Dante from getting too good a look. He walks to the door and opens it a crack.

His roommate immediately starts glancing through the sliver of space that isn’t covered by Nero’s body. “Whatcha doing? You’ve been holed up in here all day.”

Nero hadn’t even realised Dante was home, much less how long that has been true. He usually just assumes Dante is out and goes from there. “Halloween costume, we do have a party coming up after all.”

This seems to intrigue Dante even more and makes him make an actual show of trying to see passed Nero’s body blocking the door. Damn him being taller. “Oh, what’s it gonna be?”

“Not telling, it’s a surprise. And it isn’t done yet.”

Dante smirks, “Surprise, eh? Hmm, I don’t know how I’ll survive the waiting.” He’s so dramatic.

“Too bad. Did you want something or did you just come to check up on me?”

Something about the question makes Dante blanche. But the reaction is gone nearly as quickly as it came on and makes Nero wonder if he’d just imagined it. Especially because he can’t imagine why Dante would have such a reaction. “Just wondering if you wanted to eat something since you’ve been stuck in here all day.”

“So you _were_ just checking up on me, how sweet.” His voice drips with sarcasm. But before he can say anything else, his stomach makes a loud growl, prompting both men to look down at it, and he realises just how hungry he is. He can’t remember having eaten at all that day and it is definitely time for a meal. When his stomach finally stops it grumbling, he looks back up to find Dante looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, alright, I’m starved.”

Dante claps his hands together, “Great! Pizza should be here any second.”

Of course, pizza again. Nero would actually be getting sick of it if he didn’t make himself actual food now and then. He nods, “I’ll be out in a second, let me just put away some of this stuff.” He closes the door before Dante can try to nudge his way in and try to get a peek. He puts his paper mache up somewhere where it can dry without fear of getting damaged. He also tidies up some of the materials that have gotten scattered in a mess around the room before finally deeming it satisfying to leave alone.

Upon leaving the room, he locks the door just to ensure Dante won’t try to sate his curiosity. Because now that Nero has decided it’s a surprise, he has to make sure it stays that way.

The pizza is good, as usual. And at least pizza for dinner means Dante bought, which means Nero doesn’t have to. He always appreciated free food, which is why he’s pretty sure that even if he becomes sick of pizza, he still won’t turn it down.

When the box is empty and both men are satisfyingly full, Nero realises just how late it is. He really has been cooped up in his room all day working. He yawns and his exhaustion hits him all at once. He gets up to take his plate to the kitchen before heading back to his room. Before he reaches the door, he hears Dante call out to him, “Hey, sleep well, kid.”

Nero shakes his head and disappears into his room once more.

\--

It takes Nero three days to finish his costume. And another day to tweak the fit and make sure it will last the night at the party well enough. Once he’s finished putting it together, trying it on, and painting it, he’s pretty happy with how it’s turned out. He’s got an outfit planned for it and he finds himself almost looking forward to the Halloween party.

When the night comes, Nero hides in his room to get ready. He has managed to keep Dante from figuring out what he had done but now he’s anxious, worrying that his costume is nowhere near worth the mystery that has surrounded it. He gets dressed, stares in his mirror for a long time, and paces around the room. It isn’t until Dante knocks and asks if he’s ready that he finally ventures toward the door. He opens it slowly, hiding his right side behind the door.

“What, all that work and you’re just wearing a fancy coat?” Dante’s voice is muffled behind a helmet type mask that makes him look like a face in stone. He’s got a long flowing coat that is open to reveal his chest done up in some makeup that makes it appear like his chest is volcanic rock breaking apart from the center and leaking lava. Nero is very impressed with his dedication, actually. And feels even more inferior than he already did.

But he still has his pride, so he steps out of the room and reveals the arm piece he’s spent so much time devoted to. He’s made a piece that covers his entire forearm, the seams where it ends covered by the sleeves of his coat. Coincidentally, he also has a paint scheme that resembles lava bursting out from volcanic rock, but his colour scheme differs. His arm piece is large and painted to look almost like dark read leathery lizard skin with an almost white blue breaking forth from the seams. The blue runs all the way up the outside of his arm in a cracking pattern and ends just shy of the protrusion at his elbow. All five fingers (which he made sure to make mobile so he can still use his hand) are painted a slightly darker blue. He tried his best to make the blue look like it’s glowing with his contrasting and shadows on the leathery part. He only hopes the lighting at the party will do it justice.

Dante makes a low whistle. “Well aren’t we a pair. Two devils going out to terrorise the town on Halloween.”

Nero huffs a laugh, “Can you even drive with that thing on?”

“No,” he reaches up and takes the helmet off, “but it is removable.”

Nero stands there awkwardly for a moment, not sure how to respond to the obvious solution. After a second, he clears his throat, “Well?” He leaves the rest of his question hanging between them. He feels kind of awkward now, especially standing next to Dante who looks even bigger in his costume and this is their first time actually going out and spending time together. Nero quietly walks a step and a half behind Dante as they walked out to his car.

The drive is quiet, too, but less so due to Nero’s awkwardness and more so due to Dante’s need to fill the car with music blasting from the radio. He sings along to most of the songs as well, not leaving much room for conversation. And that suits Nero just as well. He doesn’t need to try to fill a silence with small talk of meaningless chatter.

It’s a long drive, or at least long for Nero who is used to walking pretty much everywhere. It’s really only about fifteen minutes, but to Nero it feels like an eternity. It gives him too much time to think about the party and how he won’t know anyone there but Dante. And how Dante is so comfortable and used to the party environment that he’ll probably ditch Nero the second they get there and Nero will end up struggling to find an empty space to plant himself while he tries his hardest to become invisible.

His anxiety train of thought is cut short when the engine suddenly cuts and the music stops, leaving Dante and Nero in relative silence. Nero looks around and realises that they’ve arrived at the address of the party, already in full swing. There’s bass boosted pop blaring through the walls of the house so loud he can hear it in the car. When he opens the door, it hits him even more and his anxiety spikes again. He doesn’t even realise he’s frozen standing and staring at the house after getting out the car until Dante comes up to his side and slings an arm around him, helmet back on his head, “Come on, kid, let’s go crash this thing!”

The second they walk into the house, Nero is assaulted with loud music, screaming and yelling people, the smell of alcohol, and a wave of more anxiety. Dante immediately leads them around like he knows the place and finds some alcohol and gets a drink for both himself and Nero. Much to Nero’s surprise, the mouth bit of his helmet opens enough for him to be able to drink without removing it. Figures he’d have made sure to have something that wouldn’t impede his ability to consume alcohol.

It doesn’t take terribly long for the hostess of the party to locate Nero. With his costume not covering his face, he’s easy enough to spot. She greets him with false happiness, thinking he came alone. She is polite enough not to ask though, just not very good at hiding her disappointment. That is, until Dante butts into the conversation to introduce himself. The second he reveals his identity, she lights up. Dante removes his helmet for a moment to be more easily heard and Amanda just about melts into him, turning on everything she probably knows to flirt.

What shocks Nero is the way he seems to more or less dismiss her advances. He certainly entertains her, chatting with her and smiling, but there’s nothing behind it and he keeps his hands to himself. Before long, he excuses himself from her with a promise to find her if he needs anything. It’s so much sooner than Nero expected that he hadn’t even backed away and retreated to a lonely corner somewhere yet. Even more shocking, Dante throws his arm over Nero’s shoulder and stays close to him, rather than leaving him to his own devices. It’s almost… sweet.

After about thirty minutes of moving from place to place, Nero realises Dante is keeping them together. He’ll start conversations or participate in a drinking game, but he always grabs Nero before he moves to another location and never leaves him behind. Once he realises this, Nero starts to stick more to Dante without being dragged along. He decides that Dante is his safety net and keeps him nearby. He’s not sure he could really ask him to leave if he starts really hating it, he doesn’t want to ruin Dante’s good time. But he can at least find comfort in the one person that he actually knows.

With that, Nero lets himself drink. He’s never really been much of a drinker and he’s always been a massive lightweight, so it doesn’t take much before he’s feeling the buzz and the heat in his cheeks. He even manages to contribute to a chat Dante has started with a few other party goers. With a fair bit of alcohol and the comfort of Dante nearby, he almost starts enjoying himself. He feels warm and his mind is a little fuzzy and he thinks he’s smiling more than usual.

Dante is playing beer pong while Nero sits on a nearby couch to cheer him on when he gets that unmistakable call from nature. He tries to ignore it, knowing that the second he goes he’s going to need to go many more times during the night. But within a few minutes he’s having trouble holding it in. After only a moment of consideration, he gets up, sways a bit, and wanders over to Dante. He hadn’t realised just how drunk he actually is, but he’s having trouble walking a straight line. Still, he makes it to his roommate and lets him know he’s going to the bathroom before wandering off to find it

It takes some effort to find the elusive room and by the time he does, there’s a line of about three people in front of him. He leans himself against the wall to wait for it to be his turn. While he waits, he busies himself on his phone tapping away at a mindless phone game he downloaded when he was bored at work. When it’s finally his turn, he pockets the device and steps into the little room.

When the door shuts, it muffles the music and sounds of the party surprisingly well. It leaves Nero in this cocoon of almost silence while he does his business. And it lets him think. He hadn’t really realised how much the alcohol had been directing his actions for much of the night until now. He thinks back on the conversations he’s had and the way he’s acted and he starts to realise how _alone_ he feels.

Yeah, he’s got Dante basically carting him around, but it’s probably more out of some kind of twisted obligation rather than because Dante actually cares that he’s got something to do and someone to hang around. It’s not like he’s really been included most of the time. Usually, he just stands on the edge of whatever Dante is doing, by himself, sipping more alcohol to drown out the voice telling him he’s alone.

But now, alone in the bathroom in the relative quiet, that voice is back. It’s back and it’s telling him how utterly stupid he’s been this evening. How he should have never agreed to come and how he should never have thought Dante gave a damn about him. As he washes his hands, he looks in the mirror and can see the way his face is flush with alcohol and his blue eyes stare back at him and he feels judged by his own reflection.

His hands shake as he dries them on a way too fancy hand towel for a college student’s bathroom. When he goes to put his arm piece back on, the weight of everything just hits him all at once and culminates in his stomach deciding to reject everything within it. He barely makes it back to the toilet bowl before he’s vomiting into it. His eyes water and they can’t focus on anything and there’s _so much_ emptying from his stomach. He hadn’t even eaten much, he doesn’t know where it all is coming from.

Eventually, his stomach spasms, but only a bit of bile manages to come forth. And not long after that, he’s reduced to dry retching until he can calm his stomach down enough to just stop. He collapses backwards and rolls until he’s propped up against the wall of the bathroom, feeling and probably looking a complete mess. His eyes are teary from the effort and when he rubs it away, more water simply replaces it. And before long, he finds he’s crying.

An insistent banging pounds against the bathroom door and someone yells about him taking forever. Nero doesn’t even know how long he’s been in the quiet little room, but he doesn’t think he can leave it now. Not when he’s actively sobbing about nothing, mid panic attack, after having just expelled the entire contents of his stomach. He needs some time to breathe, time to let this pass. They always pass. Always. He can get through it.

But the longer he sits there, the harder he cries, and the more insistent the banging gets. Before long, he can hear several angry people outside the door yelling at him to hurry up and get out. The sounds only serve to make his sobbing worse and he feels like he’s in some kind of neverending feedback loop cycle that just gets worse with each passing second. He puts his head in his hands and tries to staunch the crying, as if smashing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets can make it stop like blood from a wound. Logically, he knows this is stupid, but Nero’s brain is anything but logical at that moment.

He doesn’t even register when the banging on the door stops, but it must help him at least a little because he can actually take in a couple breaths and his mind realises it’s all stopped. And then he hears a voice that explains why. “Nero?”

Dante.

He’s outside the door, knocking much more softly than the angry partygoers had been banging. The sound doesn’t hurt his head, but it does make him sob with a renewed vigor. He can’t let Dante see him like this. He can’t show the man how utterly weak and pathetic he is. What if he decides he’s too much of a miserable wretch and kicks him out? What if he laughs at him and tells everyone about how pathetic he is, crying in the bathroom at a Halloween party, making everyone laugh along with him?

“Nero, I’m gonna need you to make some kind of noise that you’re alright in there, otherwise I’m going to have to break down the door and I don’t want to have to explain that to our hostess.”

If it wasn’t so dire, Nero might have laughed. The idea of Dante breaking down the door and then having to tell Amanda that he thought Nero was hurt or died or something in the bathroom is such a ridiculous mental image. Instead of laughing, a new wave of sobs starts up. It takes him several moments to calm down enough to be able to form anything intelligent. He yells out a broken, “Yeah,” and tries to say he’s fine but the words get stuck in his throat.

He doesn’t hear anything for a long time, and the silence and the anticipation of waiting for Dante to say something calms him down slightly. At least until his brain decides it means Dante has left him alone, thinking the man really doesn’t give half a shit about him. But just before the thought process can spiral out of control, he hears his voice again. “Can you open the door?”

The question surprises Nero. Not because it’s really a strange question, since it’s entirely logical. But rather the way Dante says it. It’s as soft as it can be and still make it through the music and the door and into the bathroom. It’s gentle and it has this quality about it that’s almost sad. It’s almost enough to make Nero get up and do it. But his pride gets in the way and he yells back wetly, “No.”

He can almost hear the way Dante sighs. But he knows such a soft sound would never make it through to him as they are now. It’s another long moment before Dante speaks again, “Look, kid-”

“I’m not a fucking kid!” Nero shouts back, tears falling yet again from already damp eyes. He furiously wipes at them, just spreading the salty wetness over his face.

“Nero. It’s alright.” Dante’s voice cuts through again. It’s calm and low, like he’s talking down a frightened animal. Nero huffs a sardonic laugh. He guesses that’s more or less what’s happening here. “I’m not here to judge you. I just want to make sure you’re alright. And take you home, if that’s what you need.”

He sounds so _caring_. And it almost pisses Nero off, but he’s too vulnerable to feel anything but relieved. Dante is not only offering him himself judgement free, but also an escape. Nero chalks it up to Dante probably just thinking he’s sick or something and needs to sleep off too much alcohol, but the gesture still manages to warm Nero up a little. He sits there for a while, considering his options. He can either stay in here, continue making a scene that half the party probably already knows about, or he can open the door, let Dante see his vulnerability, but also be able to escape back home where he doesn’t have to deal with anyone. Finally, his desire to leave wins out and he drags himself up unsteadily and unlocks the door before sitting back down next to it.

There’s only a brief pause before Dante takes the unlocking of the door as an invitation. The door opens and Nero shoves his head in his hands again to hide his face. Sounds from the party crash into the room, filling the space and making Nero’s head spin with how _loud_ it is. But it only lasts a few moments before the door is closed once more and the sounds are all muffled once again. He hears Dante moving around him, turning to face him. And then there’s nothing for a long time.

He chances a peak, lifting his head just barely to look through his fingers. He doesn’t anticipate how _close_ Dante is to him. Dante had lowered himself right there in front of him, at eye level. Far enough to give him space, but much closer than Nero had thought. Dante’s helmet is nowhere to be seen and his eyes, bright blue of nearly the same shade as Nero’s stare at him. And it reminds him of when he had been staring into the mirror. But instead of judged he feels… He’s not sure what he feels, but it’s calm and kind and understanding.

Nero sniffs hard before rubbing his face with the heels of his hands once more, finally dropping them so that he can actually look at Dante properly. And for a while, they just look at each other, no one choosing to look away or break the tenuous moment between them, at least until Dante offers him a sad smile, “Do you want to talk about it?” Nero shakes his head and Dante nods, “Alright. We can stay here long as you need and then we’ll go, sound good?”

It’s like he knows all the exact right things to say. All the words and the ways to say them to set Nero’s mind at ease and give him room to breathe. To calm his overactive mind from screaming illogical and anxious thoughts. And it feels _nice_. He sniffs again, “Yeah, yeah just give me a sec and I’ll be good.”

Dante doesn’t push him and shows him endless patience. Even when tears start running down his face for the umpteenth time, Dante doesn’t make any comments or give even the slightest hint that he is inconvenienced in any way. And it’s so refreshing. And something about the way he stays there, just silently looking on, makes Nero feel like he doesn’t have to apologise, like he isn’t being some massive burden despite having a panic attack in the bathroom at a party Dante had up until then been enjoying himself at.

Once Nero feels like he’s not going to burst into tears any second, he gets up and goes back over to the sink, splashing a bit of water on his face. He puts his hood up in hopes that it will shadow his face and make the redness of his eyes a bit less obvious. “Ok, I’m good.”

When Nero turns back around, Dante is already standing. Leaning, actually, against the wall next to the door where Nero had previously been sitting. When Nero walks toward the door, he pushes himself off the wall and gives Nero an odd look. Rather than turning toward the door, he steps over to the toilet and bends down. “Wouldn’t want to leave this behind, now would you? You worked hard on it.” Dante turns back to Nero, holding his arm piece.

He takes it and looks down at it in confusion. “Thanks.” He’s at a loss as to why Dante cares and even more that he recognises the effort he put into making it. He shakes his head slightly, not wanting to dwell on it, and puts the arm piece on for easier transport before opening the door back to the party.

Sound assaults his senses as the full volume of the music hits him again. The line that had clearly been outside the bathroom had vanished. Nero had a feeling Dante had a large part to play in that and he’s very grateful for it. This moment could have been a lot more awkward with angry people watching him retreat sheepishly. Especially with Dante in tow, who knows what conclusions people may have drawn.

Dante leads him out of the house on the most direct path. He ignores everyone that tries to get his attention on the way out, which Nero really appreciates because he wants to get out as soon as possible. Still, he does feel a little bad that Dante isn’t able to enjoy his own time because he’s being such a baby. The earlier sense that he doesn’t need to apologise vanishes and he suddenly feels so stupid for all of this, for making Dante take him home and for not being able to handle anything.

When they step out of the house and into the front lawn, Nero can’t stop the way apologies start falling from his lips. “I’m sorry about this, I know you were having a good time and then I went and made a scene and you had to pick up my pathetic ass off the ground and now you’re taking me home instead of staying and just please don’t kick me out.” It all comes in more or less one breath, with no filter from his brain to his mouth.

Dante stops them. “What? Why would I kick you out?”

For a second, Nero doesn’t understand the question. He can’t even remember everything he had just said other than apologising. And then his thoughts from earlier float back into his head and he realises he had just laid them all bare for Dante to hear. “I- um. I just, I know I’m nothing but a burden-” He doesn’t get to finish his thought because Dante grabs his coat at his shoulder and drags him over to the car. Nero’s thoughts race. He wonders how it is that he has managed to piss Dante off this much, and figures he’s really in for it now. He should probably start looking for a new place, because now Dante is _definitely_ kicking him out.

Dante opens the passenger side and shoves Nero in before stalking around and getting into the driver’s seat. Once they are both within the intimate confines of the car, Dante rounds on him. “Let’s get this one thing straight right now. You are _not_ a burden. You never have been and you never will be. You are a person with thoughts and feelings and sometimes your emotions get the best of you, but that does not make you a burden, no matter what.”

Nero stares, stunned, back at Dante. “You’re… you aren’t mad?”

The other man sighs and offers a smile that Nero can only describe as _soft_. “No, of course I’m not mad. Nero, I care a lot more about you and your wellbeing than I do about being at any stupid party.”

Well that’s news to him. He doesn’t have any kind of adequate response to this revelation so he stays quiet, turning back to face forward and stare at his lap awkwardly. He hears Dante sigh. “Hey, you aren’t weak or anything for getting overwhelmed. Shit happens. And I know I’m not the best at words of comfort or whatever, but…” He pauses for a long moment, “I’m here for you, ok?”

That makes Nero turn back to him. There’s the oddest expression on his face that makes Nero feel kind of warm. He has no idea how to respond or what to say. He doesn’t usually accept this kind of stuff from people but… something about the way Dante sits there and looks at him, about the way he’s acted all evening, something tells him to trust him. “Thanks.” They sit there, looking at each other for another long moment in silence until Nero clears his throat, feeling a little awkward again. “Um, can we go now?”

Dante looks like he just got knocked out of a deep train of thought and Nero almost regrets saying anything. “Yeah.” He turns the key and the car roars to life, and with it the radio. Dante immediately reaches for the knob and turns the music down until it’s almost inaudible. “Sorry, forgot that was on.”

Nero makes a sound of acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything further. He turns to stare out the window at the darkness as Dante drives them home. The silent drive without even music between them would probably be awkward, but somehow Nero doesn’t find it to be. It’s a comfortable silence. Though he does feel Dante’s eyes on him now and then and about five minutes before they get home he wonders how much alcohol Dante had consumed and if he even should have driven. But they make it back to the apartment safely and Nero only feels a little ill from the way Dante whips around corners.

When they get into the apartment, Nero starts to go to his room to be alone, but before he can take even a few steps in that direction, he finds himself redirecting himself toward the couch. Something makes him not want to be alone right now and Dante has managed to become a comforting presence for him and he’s not quite ready to give that up for the night yet.

“Not going to bed?”

Of course Dante catches his somewhat unusual behaviour of not going straight to his room. He thinks about making some kind of excuse, but he settles with a half truth. “I’m exhausted, but I’m not tired. Thought I’d try to find one of those late night marathons and draw to calm down.” Speaking of drawing, that means he needs his sketchbook, which is in his room. Looks like he’ll be going there after all.

Before he has the chance to get up, though, Dante plants himself next to him, “Sounds good. I’ll browse, you get your sketchbook.” The fact that Dante seems to have read his mind weirds Nero out slightly but he ignores it in favour of nodding his assent to the plan and getting up to carry it out.

When he returns, Dante is sitting in front of a large pile of very dirty makeup wipes with the television softly playing. Dante’s chest is a mess of smeared makeup all mixed together and he’s rubbing at a patch of it with another makeup wipe, which is rapidly becoming as dirty as the rest. Nero sits down next to him and stares at his process. “Looks like more effort than it was worth.”

“Eh,” Dante says, scrubbing at a bit of stubborn grey-black around his nipple, “Looked sick though.”

“Speaking of,” Nero starts as he opens his sketchbook to a new page, “what happened to that helmet thing you were wearing?”

Dante makes a questioning hum before making another hum of understanding. “Used it to bribe people away from the bathroom so they quit yelling at you.”

Nero almost drops his sketchbook, “You what? That thing looked expensive and you just pawned it off to some kids you didn’t even know?”

His companion shrugs, “Wasn’t too bad and I can always get a new one.”

Nero just gapes at him, baffled by his blasé attitude toward what appeared to Nero to be a very expensive piece of his costume. It’s the kind of thing that would take Nero months of saving up for, and that’s just for the helmet, not to mention all the other pieces to Dante’s costume. “Where do you get all your money from?” Dante’s face darkens and he looks like he suddenly travels a million miles away and Nero reels back, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“No, no, I guess you deserve to know at least some of it.” Dante sighs and puts down the wipe he had been using. His eyes look far away and his voice gets this low, reminiscent quality that doesn’t seem quite sad but isn’t really happy either. “Long story short, Dad was a mob guy and Mom died because of it. Lots of money left behind for me and my brother.” He laughs but there’s no humour in it. “Guess I’m what people call ‘set for life’ or something. Never really looked at it that way myself. Seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”

Dante’s little explanation has so much new information packed into it, Nero doesn’t even know where to focus his attention. He didn’t know he had a brother, didn’t know his mother was dead, definitely didn’t know his father was in the _mob_. What other kind of secrets is this guy hiding behind an exterior of flirtations and borderline alcoholism? Nero desperately wants to ask more, find out more about Dante’s family and his father’s mob involvement, ask about his brother and where he is now and why Dante never seems to talk about him. But the way Dante had spoken tells him that asking anything more would be a mistake and he holds his tongue instead. He keeps his overwhelming curiosity to himself and instead tries to come up with some kind of response to the bomb Dante just dropped on him. “Ah… sorry.” For what, he’s not even sure. Sorry you have more money than you know what to do with? Sorry that seems like it’s a burden for you? Sorry your mom died? Nero doesn’t know and Dante doesn’t ask, so he doesn’t bother trying to come up with anything more.

After a moment of awkward hesitation, Dante grins and leans over to ruffle Nero’s hair before picking up a new wipe and continuing to try to wipe away all of the makeup on his chest. Nero shoots him a pointed glare at getting his hair ruffled and curls up with his sketchbook in an attempt to look busy. Only, he can’t really come up with anything to draw. He holds his pencil against the paper, but he can’t make his hand move to create any lines. His mind is stuck. Instead, he finds himself tuning in to the program on the television in the background. After a while, his hand starts drifting and he just starts doodling mindlessly.

Before long, he’s filled a page with doodles of different things. And when he looks down to really review his drawings, he realises there’s a theme. The first drawing was of the arm piece he had made. Almost a construction drawing similar to one of his earlier planning drawings. The second is his own interpretation of the creature Dante had dressed up as, horns and cracked lava rock chest and all. It’s actually kind of cool, now that he really looks at it, and he makes a mental note to do a more dedicated drawing of it at some point. The next drawing is just a pair of eye staring at him full of soft caring. He knows they’re Dante’s eyes even though they still aren’t _right_. And he won’t admit, even to himself, how many times those eyes have plagued his sketchbook.

The last drawing is something that if anyone were to ask, he would say is anatomy practice. Because there is no way in Hell he would tell anyone the truth of the matter is that he’d been staring at Dante’s chest a little too much that night and his mind had clearly fixated on the shape of him enough to sketch it out. He glances over to the subject of his mind’s eye and finds his drawing doesn’t even do the man justice. He really is quite well defined. Incredible, considering his diet of pretty much pizza and the occasional actual meal as mandated by either Nero or one of the girls. He’s a great model, actually. Maybe Nero should have him pose for him sometime to do some life drawing.

Nero laughs at the thought, he can just see how Dante would respond. He’d tease Nero about it and offer to pose nude and tease even further when Nero’s face burns bright red in embarrassment. Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t ask for that.

“What’s funny?”

Dante’s voice almost surprises Nero, despite having sat next to him for the last… however long they’ve been sitting there. He looks down at his sketchbook and quickly tries to hide the page he’d been working on. “Just thinking.”

He gets an odd look in return, but no further comments.

They return to their quiet companionship and Nero starts sketching again. He starts a fresh page and starts drawing Dante as he is right now. He keeps casting furtive glances over at his subject to try to get everything right. It only takes about twenty minutes to get a basic sketch down, but when he starts refining it, he loses himself in the process.

Before he knows it, it’s three in the morning and the marathon Dante had found them is ending in favour of infomercials. Dante reaches for the remote and switches the TV off. “Well, kid? I think it’s about time to catch some z’s. You gonna stay out here?”

Nero looks down at his mostly finished drawing and flips the sketchbook closed, “Nah, I should sleep, too.”

Dante waits for Nero to get up and head toward the hall before turning the lights out and following him. Nero puts his hand on his door knob but before he opens it, he speaks into the darkness. “Thanks, Dante.”

Before he can hear if Dante thinks to answer, or if he even heard him, he steps into his room and closes the door behind him.


	4. The Rabid Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another update. This one is where shit starts to get real and I bump the rating a bit. There are some potential triggers in this one, pay attention to tags if you need warnings.  
> Also, praise Kyrie for actually being observant.

The semester rapidly moves by after that. Nero finds himself busy again with final projects and keeping up with work. He doesn’t get to spend a ton of time just relaxing at home, but the time that he does spend there, he tends to spend with Dante. Ever since the party, Nero has started getting a lot closer with his roommate. It’s not unusual for them to share an evening with some crime drama on in the background while they play a drinking game or even just chat.

Nero has learned that Dante is a surprisingly _human_ person. An apt description, as he’s studying humanities. Before, Nero had though Dante was a pretty simple guy who likes pizza, booze, and sex. And while that is all pretty much true, he’s also very smart, fiercely loyal, and really compassionate. He may have a teasing nature and really awful one liners, but he’s also got this heart of gold and he seems to always know what to say to make pretty much anyone smile. _And_ he’s great with kids. Won’t admit it, but he is. There are so many little things about Dante that Nero never knew before but in the past couple months has learned a lot about.

And by the time finals are over and all his projects are turned in, Nero finds himself sad about Christmas break for more than one reason.

Usually, he hates it because it means he has to go back to his parents’ house and spend the holidays suffering through what he moved away to avoid. But with his hyper religious (and incredibly hypocritical) parents, he would be cut off from what little help they do provide for his schooling were he not to show up. This time, though, he’s not just sad that he has to go there, but he’s sad that he has to leave what has truly started to feel like home. He has to suffer his family and be without the only real friends he’s made since Kyrie and Credo left.

He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be leaving the apartment he’s grown to really appreciate. But his bags are packed and his train is soon. Dante has agreed to drive him to the station, so he at least gets a few last minutes to spend before he’ll be alone in his own personal Hell.

“Too bad you’ve gotta go home, would have been nice to have you around for the festivities this year. Gets exhausting just having the girls macking on each other every year.” Nero knows he’s joking and that he loves having Christmas with Lady and Trish. He’s said as much when he asked what Nero was doing for the holidays.

Still, it makes Nero feel even more melancholy. “Yeah, I wish I could stay, too.” Dante doesn’t know why Nero is so terrified to go home, in fact, Nero hasn’t even expressed just how upset he is about going home. Lady is still the only one that even sort of knows what’s up, and that’s just from the few times he’s had to call her to keep himself from panicking when his step dad called.

They make it to the train station way too fast for Nero’s taste. Dante pulls up to the drop off zone and gets out to help Nero get his bags out of the car. Once his meager bags are out on the sidewalk, Nero knows it’s time to go. His train is soon and he can’t miss it. Still, he hesitates.

Dante’s arms are thrown around Nero and he doesn’t really know what to do. Suddenly, he can smell his aftershave and feel his body so _close_ and Dante is _hugging_ him. Nero doesn’t know what to do with his arms and probably reciprocates the hug a bit too late. Still, the hug lasts just slightly longer than is probably socially acceptable.

“Gonna miss you, kid. Come back soon.”

Nero looks down at his feet and shuffles a bit, “Yeah, I’ll do my best.”

And that’s it. Dante gets back in his car and drives back to Nero’s only safe haven while Nero turns back toward the train station and heads toward his platform and the train that will take him back to Hell.

\--

“Welcome home, darling.”

Nero’s skin breaks out in a cold sweat when he hears Grant’s voice. Of course he’s here to pick him up instead of granting him the brief extra time to be free of him. He shouldn’t have expected any difference.

His step dad puts an arm around him and he immediately wishes he could melt away. The touch reminds him of years of torture that left no scars. At least, none that can be seen. Because that’s how Grant works. Mom leaves marks, but Grant’s abuse is so much worse. The touch leads him out of the station and toward the parking lot, where he is placed into the front seat and his luggage is carelessly thrown in the back. Nero spends the car ride trying not to notice the hand on the center console that creeps toward his leg now and then.

The moment the car stops in the driveway, Nero is out of it, grabbing his bags from the back, and rushing into the house and up to his room. As a habit, he turns to lock the door, but realises that luxury is not available here. Grant would break down the door even if it were. He mourns the bit of safety he had come to take for granted for only a moment before retreating to his bed and pulling out his phone.

He sends one text to Dante, letting him know he made it home. Dante had asked for it and it’s something to do. And then he opens up a text to Lady but he can’t seem to come up with anything to write. Nothing is happening or has happened. Yet. He stares at the blank text message screen for a bit before closing it and deciding not to bother Lady with his anxieties over nothing.

Just being in this house sets Nero’s nerves on edge. He didn’t see his mom when he rushed through the house, but she’s probably home. She almost never leaves unless she’s going to buy drugs. But knowing she’s around and that seeing Nero will probably set off her violence makes him not want to ever leave the bedroom. But there’s another danger to that, because if he doesn’t come out, then Grant comes in. And that’s something Nero really doesn’t want.

He stays in his room, trying to distract himself from the inevitable. Mostly he busies himself by sketching. And mostly he ends up sketching Dante’s eyes for the hundredth time. He still hasn’t managed to get any of them quite right, but he’s getting close. Or at least he thinks he is.

At seven, Nero finally puts down his sketchbook and slowly wanders toward his door. He pauses, hand on the door knob, not looking forward to what comes next, before opening it and stepping into the main part of the house. It’s dinner time and dinner time is ‘family’ time. Some archaic attempt to keep up religious appearances or something. Nero doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, because it’s really just an excuse to check up on him.

He takes the steps slow, trying to delay dinner as much as possible. He hasn’t even seen his mother yet, and he really doesn’t want to, but he has to. His mother is already sitting at the dining table when he gets there. She looks out of it enough that maybe she won’t get pissed at him and start throwing things, but he knows better than to hope. She’s definitely freshly high, though, and that gives him a better chance of making it out unscathed by her wrath.

Grant is in the kitchen, making dinner. Nero really doesn’t understand the relationship between his mother and his step father. She spends all day doing shit all while she gets high and drunk while he works and leads a ‘normal’ life. They go to church on Sunday and the town pretends his mother isn’t an addict and his step father isn’t an asshole. Somehow, this works for them, and Nero can’t imagine ever living like this.

Nero wants his life to mean something. He doesn’t want to make it from day to day, not caring really if he ends up dead because it wouldn’t mean anything. He wants to do something that makes him happy and live a life full of… life. And if he does end up with someone, he wants it to be someone he truly cares about, someone that he couldn’t live without. He doesn’t want a convenient relationship like his parents. He wants something that _means_ something.

Nero’s thoughts are interrupted when food is set on the table. It’s nothing special, just some casserole of unknown origin. Grant isn’t the best cook, he’s just the only one that can between Nero’s parents. It’s why Nero learned to cook himself, sneaking into the kitchen at odd hours to make himself something that actually fills and sustains him. Still, Nero takes what is served and eats it dutifully. As expected, it’s not great, but it’s at least edible. His mother pushes it around on her plate absently, she’s probably on a cloud somewhere right now, and food does not interest her in the least.

“How is school, Nero?”

Ah, using his name now. Rather than the disgusting pet name. But that’s only for when they’re alone. Nero takes another bites and chews slowly before answering. “Fine.”

“Fine? That’s all you can say? If that’s all, then why don’t you come back home and do something worthwhile?” Grant’s voice is patronising, putting Nero down and essentially making fun of his chosen subject of study. No one is proud of his attempt to get an art degree.

Nero almost chokes on the bite of food in his mouth at the implication that he should move back to this Hell house. “It’s going well, I’m really enjoying it.”

Grant sits back in his chair with a self satisfied smile. He seems to be celebrating some private victory that Nero can’t imagine. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s just another tactic to tear him down. “And what about this new roommate of yours?”

This time, Nero does choke. He doesn’t want to talk about Dante here. Dante is safe and pure from this place. He’s a refuge from this, he can’t let Grant use him as a tool. So he comes up with a lie, plays down how important he is. “He’s just a guy that had a room free when I was looking. We aren’t really friends, we just live together.” Lies, all of it. But he won’t let Dante become some kind of torture tool along with everything and everyone else in his life.

“I see. Shame, you could probably do with some friends, hmm?”

Nero doesn’t dignify that with a response. Mostly because it’s probably true. Kyrie and Credo were his only friends and then they moved away. And sure, he still calls them from time to time, but it’s not the same. And now, he’s got Dante and Lady and Trish, but he’s not about to reveal that. But he has far and few between friends and has never been very good at making them. He lowers his head and focuses on finishing his meal.

The rest of dinner procedes in much the same way, with Grant asking questions and subtly putting him down while his mother pushes food around her plate in a drug induced stupor. She doesn’t even move when Nero and Grant finish and start clearing the table. She just sits there, staring ahead. Nero wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t even realise he’s there.

Once the table is clear and the dishes are done, Nero immediately excuses himself to his room. He’s finished his obligated time and removes himself from the possible escalation of his mother when she starts coming down from her high. There, he can at least be safe for a little while. And maybe Grant will leave him be tonight.

Fat chance.

It takes barely an hour before his worst nightmare opens the door unprompted. Nero is just sitting in bed listening to music and almost doesn’t hear the door. But the smell gives him away. Nero’s head snaps toward the door and there, in the doorway, is the silhouette of his step father. The most vile man Nero has ever had the misfortune to come in contact with.

The door closes and suddenly Nero’s safe haven is the place he wants to be the least. There is no escape and the world becomes only that room. There’s nothing else, the house is gone, his mother is gone, his apartment back at school is far away and _gone_. No salvation, no one to save him. He’s on his own and there’s nothing he can do.

“Oh, my darling. It’s been a long time, don’t you think? Far too long.” His voice is low and predatory. His eyes shine in the low light in the room with this dangerous glint and a smile to match.

Nero pulls his knees up to his chest and tries to become as small as he can. He knows it won’t do anything and there will only be a few moments where he can stay that way, but for the time being, it gives him a sense of comfort. Even as Grant stalks across the room toward him before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you. It’s so hard without you here to help me out, you know.” The older man’s hand rests on the bed next to where he’s sitting and slowly creeps in Nero’s direction. He pulls his legs closer into his chest, limiting the space he takes up at the head of the bed even further to avoid the wandering hand.

Eventually, when his hand doesn’t meet its target, Grant turns his head up toward Nero. “What’s the matter, darling? Don’t you want to show me how much you missed me, too?”

Nero shudders. He can’t stop the physical culmination of the revulsion and terror he feels. Twenty years old and he can’t say no to his fucking torturer.

“Aww, are you cold, darling? Why don’t you come here, I’ll help you get warm.” The comments just continue, they only get worse. And it only sends Nero into a place where he can hide.

The next moment, without even realising it, Nero is dragged down the bed until he’s laid out across it and Grant bridges himself above him. Nero’s brain stops. The only way he can get through this is to completely leave. While Grant starts running hands over him, undressing him, acting like he’s a toy for him, Nero’s mind is far away. He goes to a place he created as a child where he is strong and can destroy the demons of the world with ease. Where he is the one on top and Grant is just another demon to be slayed among all the many of the world.

Nero’s body moves easily under Grant’s hands because he offers no resistance. There is no point and he’s too far away to fight anyway. He’s got his world of fighting demons, killing them in an explosion of mess and blood and guts. It doesn’t even hurt when Grant violates him, barely bothering to make it less than painful for Nero. He doesn’t register the way the man above him keeps repeating a two words over and over again. “My darling.” The words haunt him enough as it is, a few more times doesn’t matter over the fantasy he’s created for himself.

Eventually, Grant finishes, making a mess of Nero, proving his ownership, his superiority. He stays there, not pulling out, for a long time even after he’s soft. “You are mine, my darling. And don’t you forget it. I’ve soiled you, no one will ever love you like I can.”

Tears start falling from Nero’s eyes at that. It’s the one thing that truly gets him down to his soul. He always feels so dirty after times like this. Not only physically from the fluids leaking from him when the man pulls away and leaves him alone, closing the door without any concern for the man left behind. But he also feels filthy because no one could ever want him after this. It’s probably part of why he’s never even tried to be in a relationship beyond the hardly there one with Kyrie that was more just because it was what everyone else was doing. But a real relationship? One where there are true feelings of love and where sex became a possibility? No, Nero can’t even imagine anyone wanting him that way in the first place, especially after they learn about all of this. He’s broken, soiled, dirty.

Nero cries quietly into his pillow for some time, not bothering to pull his clothes back on. It’s pointless, it doesn’t matter. _He_ doesn’t matter. He’s just a plaything to use, abuse, and discard when finished with. He’ll never be loved, never be worth anything, never amount to anything.

Sleep takes him after his tears dry and his head hurts. He never finds the energy to pull clothes back on. Just sleeps on top of his blankets, nude, with tear stains on his pillow.

\--

The rest of Christmas break is much the same as that first day. Nero spends much of his time avoiding everyone in his room, only coming out for meals or if his mom yells at him. Grant usually comes at night, but there are a few times he neglects to show up and Nero spends the entire night in fear that he could show up at any moment. Those nights are almost worse than when he does show up. Almost.

But he deals with it. Christmas comes and goes. They all go to church and put on a show for the town that they are a perfect family with a son that comes home for holidays and that fears God and all that stupid bullshit. Nero puts himself through the motions, knowing making a scene would only make things worse. New Year comes and goes, even less happens. He watches the ball drop after Grant leaves his room that night. It’s more depressing than anything.

He only texts Lady once. When he’s really struggling with just surviving his mandated torture time. When he’s trying not to go back to his terrible coping methods from when he was younger. He doesn’t tell her he’s struggling, just chats with her for a bit to try to escape from everything. It’s nice.

He doesn’t text anyone else from school. He doesn’t want to bother anyone while they have their break. Once, he opens up a text to Dante, almost types something out, but decides against it. He’s sure his roommate would answer, would probably even be cool about it. But Nero really doesn’t want Dante to be associated with this place in any way. So he closes the message and suffers alone.

Nero counts down the days until his train ride back to school. When the day finally comes, he can’t leave fast enough. He never really unpacked, but what was strewn about his bedroom had been put away in his bag days before. He’s sitting on the porch waiting for his step dad to drive him to the station an hour before they had agreed to leave. On the car ride, he can’t even bring himself to care when Grant says all his creepy bullshit to him.

When they arrive at the station, Nero doesn’t say goodbye. He just grabs his bags and bolts into the station, trying to escape as fast as humanly possible. Being in the station feels better, finally away from his family. But he knows he won’t feel right until there is some actually distance, physical and time. The marks from this break will scar over soon enough.

\--

Nero walks quickly up the stairs toward the main station. He doesn’t want to waste any time, he just wants to go home and lock his door and feel safe again. It isn’t until he hears the call from behind him that he stops.

“Welcome back, kid.”

Nero spins on the balls of his feet and almost falls from the weight of his bag following the momentum. He had expected to have to walk home, had thought Dante would be busy and hadn’t even considered asking. But there he is, standing in all his glory in the middle of the station, waiting for him.

“Wha- I wasn’t expecting you.”

Dante grins and walks over to Nero, taking his bag and slinging it over a shoulder, making it look way easier than it should have looked. “I know, thought I’d give ya a ride, though.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Been pretty boring around without you.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He can’t tell Dante how excruciating his own break has been. How boring would have been _welcome_. But he won’t think about that. Because Dante is _pure_ and _free_. So he just follows Dante out of the station in silence.

They arrive at the car and Dante loads Nero’s bag into the back and gets in. Nero follows behind, getting into the passenger side quietly. He expects the car to roar into life shortly afterwards. Except it doesn’t. He glances over at Dante to find him staring at him. “Something wrong?”

Nero is either being really obvious about the memories haunting him from break, or Dante has just gotten really good at reading him. Somehow. Considering he’s kind of always quiet and reserved, he guesses it’s the latter. “I’m fine.” He pauses, considering if he wants to say anything more. “I just want to get back.” It’s true enough, he does. He wants to make it back and be safe again, because he still doesn’t feel far enough away from his parents yet.

Dante looks at him for a long moment with a crease in his brow and a bit of a frown. But after some time, he turns forward and starts the car. “Whatever you say, kid.”

On reflex, Nero sneers at the nickname. But he doesn’t comment. He doesn’t actually hate it so much, it’s some kind of endearment coming from Dante. It irritated him at first, and irritates him more if it makes him actually feel like a child, but mostly Dante just uses it as an affectionate nickname. Nero has even come to enjoy it sometimes when he says it.

But that moment is edging on him feeling a child already, so he doesn’t appreciate it as he might otherwise. But he lets it go, it’s not Dante’s fault and he doesn’t want to start a fight or get pissy when he’s finally back where he belongs. So he stays quiet and picks at his nails as Dante drives them home.

When they arrive, Nero beats Dante to his bag, shouldering it and taking it to the apartment himself. Dante follows him, having to take a few steps at a jog to keep pace. Nero doesn’t even bother stopping once they make it inside, heading straight for his room and throwing the door shut. He doesn’t even realise he practically hits Dante’s nose with it as it slams. He’s too focused on locking that door and breathing.

Freedom.

Nero takes several deep breaths, breathing in the smell of safety and the feeling of calm. Ironic that he feels far freer in this room where he is locked inside than he ever did in his room at his parents house without a lock. There’s just something about that control over who can come in and when that sets him at ease.

It takes him about two hours before he comes out of his room again, before he feels like he can wander and not look behind him for a predator. He still doesn’t feel _right_ but he’s considerably more comfortable that he had been a few hours prior. He heads over to the kitchen, choosing not to bother Dante who appears to be napping on the couch. Nero opens the fridge and ends up just standing there for a long time, not really knowing what he’s doing. He should make food, he’s hungry, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do so.

“Pizza’s on the way.” Dante’s voice surprises him and he jumps slightly, closing the fridge. “Welcome back to civilisation.” There’s a sharpness in Dante’s voice that confuses Nero and makes him feel bad but he’s not sure why.

Nero scratches at the back of his neck, “Ah, yeah, just… needed some time to myself I guess.”

Dante is quiet for a long while. Long enough that Nero starts to feel kind of awkward just standing there in the kitchen looking at him on the couch. “We all do, sometimes. Feel better?”

It’s like some invisible force releases from Nero’s chest, releasing the pressure he felt there and also blowing away any tension that had existed between the two. Nero sighs and it feels like everything is normal somehow.

“So when will pizza b-” before he can even finish his sentence there’s a knock on the door. Nero, being the one standing already, goes over to answer the door and collect the pizza from the delivery man. It smells heavenly and his mouth starts watering. He hadn’t realised that he had missed pizza. He didn’t think he _could_ miss pizza, with how much he and Dante eat it. But after a few weeks living on his step dad’s cooking, pizza sounds like the most pleasing meal he can imagine.

Nero carries the pizza over to the couch and joins Dante over it, having to move his legs to make room. In pure Dante fashion, Dante replaces his legs over Nero’s lap after he’s sat down. He considers pushing his legs off but it doesn’t actually bother him all that much and even feels somewhat cozy. So, instead, he simply rests the box on top of Dante’s legs, opens it up, and takes a piece for himself before passing the box over to Dante.

It is just as amazing as he hoped. The nice hot bread with melty cheese and perfect amount of toppings. Nero moans with how incredible it tastes and Dante laughs at him. “Should I leave you two alone?” Nero can’t even care about the ribbing, the pizza tastes too good. He just holds up his middle finger with one hand while the other continues to shove the sustenance into his mouth. Dante laughs again before digging into his own piece.

They decimate half the pizza in silence, both of them too preoccupied with eating to talk. Once they hit halfway, they start to slow down and Dante glances over at Nero. “Oh, that’s for you.” He motions toward the coffee table and there sits a box wrapped in Christmas themed wrapping paper that Nero hadn’t even noticed until it was pointed out.

“Dante…” Nero starts, but Dante cuts him off before he can complain.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing all that special, just thought I should get you something.”

Nero looks over at the package again, pulling it toward him after wiping pizza grease off on his jeans. “But I didn’t get you anything.” _And I can’t afford to._ He doesn’t say it, but the implication hangs heavy in the air.

Dante waves him off noncommittally. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. I’ve got pretty much everything I need anyway.” Dante looks down when he says that, almost like he’s sad about something. But Nero can’t even begin to fathom what, so he doesn’t say anything.

Nero runs his fingers over the package, feeling the way his fingers slide over the shiny paper. He can’t remember the last time he got an actual present. He’s gotten hand me downs from Credo and Kyrie has made him little gifts. But they’ve never been wrapped so carefully and presented so beautifully. He doesn’t even really know where to start. He knows that traditionally people tear through the paper to get to the prize within, but that seems too violent for such a thoughtful gesture. So, instead, Nero carefully turns it over and pulls the tape up to avoid ripping any of the paper.  
By the time he has all the tape removed, he carefully pulls back the paper and immediately gasps. “Dante, are you sure?” In his lap is a very high quality sketchbook with a tin box set of graphic and sketching pencils. Half graphite, half colour. It is far too much for Nero to accept. This would run someone near $100. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can!” Dante grins, “I just hope it’s decent. I had the chick at the store help me pick something out because I don’t know anything about art.”

“This is _really_ expensive stuff.” Nero is still staring down at the gift, running his hands over the sketchbook and starting to open up the pencils to look at them. They’re all lined up, arranged beautifully in ascending order. It’s something like design porn, just looking at them. He can’t even imagine what it feels like to _use_ them.

“It wasn’t that bad, nothing that would break the bank.”

For him maybe. Here Nero is looking at art supplies he thought he would never get to touch, much less own. And they’re sitting in his lap, a gift from Dante, something he hadn’t even asked for. ”I… Thank you. But, are you absolutely sure? This is… this is a lot.”

Dante leans forward and puts a hand on Nero’s shoulder, forcing the younger man to look at his companion, “I’m sure. You’re always sketching and I’m sure you could make some kinda crazy magic with a few more pencils. Also, I noticed the sketchbook you’ve been carting around is nearly full.”

That is true enough. Nero only has a few pages left after the sketching he did over break. And buying a replacement was on his list of things to do before the semester gets started. And this eliminates that need, but he does still want to get one because this one should be reserved for something special. Not just random doodles when he’s bored but things that he actually puts effort and time into. “Thank you.” He says it again, but this time at a whisper. He still can’t believe this turn of events.

Dante’s hand, which Nero hadn’t even realised is still on his shoulder, squeezes softly before he leans back. “Well, go ahead, try it out.”

Nero looks over in alarm, “But I don’t know what to draw.”

That earns a treacherous grin that Nero regards with suspicion. “Draw anything you want! Draw me.”

Nero almost chokes. It’s like Dante has been rooting around in his head. Or maybe his sketchbook. Like he knows that Nero’s sketches have been almost exclusively of him recently. He’s a good model! Even if he’s unaware that he is a model. But Nero can’t do that when Dante _knows_ he’s being drawn. His cheeks are hot with embarrassment at the suggestion. “And ruin the first page? Not a chance.” Although he knows that if Dante hadn’t suggested it, that’s exactly what he would have graced the first page with.

“Then just draw something, it doesn’t matter.”

Oh, but it does. It matters quite a bit to Nero. This is a special sketchbook that is for special pieces. Still, he thinks he can start a rough drawing that he can work on later, make it better, and create something worthy of the sketchbook. He carefully turns the cover open, revealing the first page, then looks over his pencil options before choosing one. He hesitates before putting it to the page, not quite ready to break the perfection of the cream coloured paper.

And then he starts.

The paper has the perfect amount of texture to pick up the graphite. Nero has to adjust and draw lighter for his construction lines to avoid having them become too dark. He starts by blocking in three bodies, then decides to add two more behind. The first person he starts to put detail into is Lady. She’s in the middle, shorter than the rest. Her hair is wild and tough to nail down, with big almond eyes smiling. She looks happy, which is what Nero wants.

Next is Trish. She’s more subdued in her smile, but no less happy. She leans in toward Lady, her eyes looking at the other woman and filled with love. It’s an expression Nero finds easy to recreate because he’s seen it so often in her eyes.

Then he decides to move up to the two bodies he placed behind, Kyrie and Credo. He’s drawn them so many times it’s almost second nature. Credo with his stern expression only showing the hint of a smile. But Nero knows he’s always been soft for his sister who he draws with her bright, sweet smile. Her expressions always looks soft and demure, her eyes slightly closed with her smile. The drawing makes him miss her a lot and reminds him he should call her soon.

The last construction sketch is for Dante. Drawn to Lady’s right, Nero doesn’t know how to approach him. He blocks in his bust and the outlines of his face, draws the wisps of his hair that are obnoxiously perfect despite always hanging down and free. But he can’t bring himself to go in on his face. The drawing, sketchy as it is, looks wrong with Dante remaining faceless. But Nero hasn’t yet gotten his eyes right, there’s no way he can get an entire expression correct on a piece that he really wants to be right.

He doesn’t realise Dante is watching until he speaks up, “What, I don’t get a face?”

Nero pulls the sketchbook against his chest, hiding the drawing. “It’s not done yet, asshole.”

Dante grins and leans back, putting his arms behind his head, “Well, you better show it off when it is, it’s a great start.” His grin falters and he gets oddly serious, “You’re really talented, Nero.”

It’s become kind of shocking whenever Dante actually uses his name. It seems to indicate that he’s being serious or is worried about spooking him or something. It’s not as light as when he calls him kid. Not that it’s mean by any stretch. It’s just… heavier. It carries more weight. Nero can feel his cheeks burn at the compliment. “Ahh, thanks.”

There’s a silence that follows which Nero finds strangely awkward. He doesn’t usually feel particularly awkward around Dante, even in silence. But something seems to be hanging in the air between them that Nero can’t place. In an effort to escape the situation, he closes the sketchbook. “I, uh… I should go call Kyrie, she’s expecting to hear from me.” The last bit is a lie, they never really plan their phone calls. But it makes his escape attempt seem less like an escape and more like something he actually needs to do.

“Yeah, yeah, go call your girlfriend.” Dante waves at him and there’s something strange swimming in his eyes that Nero can’t place.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from getting up from the couch, sending another thank you to Dante for the gift, and disappearing into his room. But not before holding up a middle finger, “She’s not my girlfriend, dick.”

While the phone call may have been more or less an excuse, he actually does want to call her. It’s been a long time since he’s talked to her and she’s one of the few people that knows more than nothing about what being home means for him. So he carefully puts his new sketchbook and pencil set away, regarding them with extreme reverence, before pulling out his phone.

It rings twice before he hears Kyrie’s singsong voice on the other end of the line. “Nero!”

He can’t help but smile. It’s nice to hear her voice and she’s always so happy to talk to him. “Hey, Kyrie. How are things?”

Kyrie launches into an explanation of all of the things she’s been doing. Nero props himself up on his bed while he listens to her stories of New York, of the church she’s singing for, of her issues with the subway system, and anything else she can think of. She’s not generally terribly talkative, but with him, she seems to let everything out. Nero likes listening to her talk about her life and all the friends she’s made. She never talks about how much people love her singing, but he can read between the lines. Especially when she tells him that she’s gotten attention from scouters for events where they want her to sing.

“I’m really proud of you, Kyrie.” And he means it. Kyrie has always wanted to be a singer in New York and now she is. She’s getting work, she’s singing in a church she likes, and she’s living her dream. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and everything Nero wants for her.

He can practically hear her blush. “Thanks, Nero. You should come visit sometime, I’d love to show you around the city.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, smiling at the thought.

The following silence only lasts a few seconds before Kyrie breaks it. “What about you, I’ve been talking about myself for so long. What’s up with you?”

Nero sighs. While Kyrie is a good sounding board and easy to talk to, it’s never easy to talk about home. “I just got back from break.” He leaves the implications of that unsaid. Kyrie will know.

And she does, judging by the following somber silence on the line. Finally, she speaks, “I’m sorry, Nero. Are you alright?”

“Better now. It’s safe here and I feel good. I like living here and I hate going home. This is more of a home than anything else.” Nero stares at his bedspread and picks at a loose thread.

“Yeah? Tell me about it, I haven’t heard much about your new place. Are you getting along with your roommate? Are you making friends?”

Nero smiles to himself, “Yeah, I’ve got Lady and Trish, they’re the girls that used to live here, they’re really nice. Trish is like a mom to me, but like, the kind of mom that encourages your bad decisions. And Lady is great. She… she kinda gets me, you know? I won’t go into it but she accidentally heard some stuff when I got a call from home and she told me some stuff about her. She’s just a really good friend to have.”

He pauses before starting in on talking about Dante. It feels like he needs his own moment. “And Dante… Dante is a good roommate, I think. I used to think he was full of himself and just a party animal but… I don’t know, we’ve gotten closer recently and he’s really cool. He made it through one of my panic attacks without judging me and he even got me a Christmas gift. A really good one, even. The guy is kinda weird, but he seems to really care about people. He eats way too much pizza and drinks way too much Jack.” Nero realises he’s kind of babbling. “So, yeah, he’s just. He’s Dante. You’d really have to meet him.”

“I’d like that.” Nero can hear the smile through her words. “Sounds like he’s really good for you.”

Nero snorts, “If feeding me pizza all the time and making fun of me is good for me, then sure. He’s great.”

“He’s the one that went to that party with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Nero’s eyes kind of glaze over at the memory of the party, and of how it ended. “That was when he experienced that panic attack I mentioned. He sacrificed a piece of his very expensive costume to get people away from the bathroom where I trapped myself and then calmed me down and brought me back here. Thinking back, I was kind of an ass to him during it and he took it all in stride. He really helped me out there, I’m not sure what I would have done without him.”

Kyrie is quiet for a moment before speaking again in a tentative tone, “Nero, don’t get upset when I say this but…” Another pause as he assumes she gathers courage to say whatever it is she thinks will upset him. “Do you _like_ Dante?”

“Yeah, he’s my roommate, my friend. Why would I be upset about that?”

“No, no,” she sighs, “Do you _like_ him?” she emphasises the word like even harder this time, putting a double meaning on the word.

Oh. “No! No, no, that’s not- it’s not like that. He’s just my roommate.”

“Hmm, it’s just… the way you talk about him sounds like he might mean a little more than that to you.” Kyrie’s voice is soft and still tentative.

Nero scoffs and dismisses it. “Nah, Dante is just a guy I live with. I don’t have any _feelings_ for him beyond friendship.” And maybe appreciation. And a little curiosity.

Kyrie seems to take this on face value and changes the subject. They end up talking for a bit longer before Kyrie has to go to a rehearsal and they say goodbye.

When he hits the end button, the room feels kind of empty. It was full while Kyrie’s voice filled his ear and he had something to do, but now he just feels kind of alone. It’s quiet and his mind is full and loud.

He pulls out his new sketchbook and pencil set once more and opens up the first page, looking at the piece he started. At the empty space where Dante’s face should be. And instead of putting pencil to page, Nero’s brain starts going into overdrive, latching onto one thing and spiralling out of control.

_"sounds like he might mean a little more than that to you.”_

Nero tries to shake his head free of the thought, but it won’t leave him alone. What does Dante mean to him? Of course he’s his roommate, the person that saved him from homelessness all those months ago. And he’s a friend, caring and compassionate and willing to go out of his way to help Nero in ways he doesn’t even ask for. Like picking him up from the train station and giving him a Christmas gift. Sitting in a bathroom at a stranger’s house while Nero cries and tries to stop having a panic attack. Taking him home when the night is still young and sacrificing his own good time for him.

Dante is a good guy. He obviously cares a lot. But he’s also… unattainable is a word for it, Nero supposes. He’s a classic player in a lot of ways. Bringing women, men, and anything in between home for a night. He’s got a proclivity for parties and drinking and being oblivious to the emotions of those around him sometimes. He doesn’t seem like the type to ever really settle with someone, having too much fun just jumping around from person to person and just enjoying the moment. And that’s not something Nero wants.

And yet, he still gravitates toward the man. He enjoys being close to him. And there are pages and pages of his sketchbook that prove he’s got the man on his mind more often than not. So maybe Dante does mean a little more to Nero than an average friend. Maybe even a best friend. Or something like it. But Nero doesn’t have _feelings_ for Dante.

Does he?

He shakes his head again, trying once more to physically throw the thoughts out of his brain. It doesn’t work. It just makes him think of the way Dante has an easy going way about him that makes Nero so infuriated but also feel really comfortable. And the way he always seems to know what Nero needs, even what he has trouble paying attention to the needs of others, he always seems to have time for Nero.

But Nero doesn’t feel _that_ way for Dante. That’s silly. He just likes him as a really good friend and as a roommate. They’re close, that’s all. Nothing more to it.

And that’s what he tells himself.


	5. A Precious Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to post today, I was so busy playing Skyrim, haha. Anyway, this chapter is mostly sweet and fluffy ish so yay! As always, I love hearing from everyone about what they think! Enjoy!

It takes two weeks before Nero admits it to himself.

He likes Dante.

Like, he _really_ likes Dante.

He tried to deny it, he tried to say he doesn’t feel that way at every bit of evidence to the contrary. But after Kyrie planted the seed, he just started seeing all the reasons that she was _right_. And now Nero struggles to be in the same room with the man without being acutely aware of everything about him. The way he breathes, the way he smells, the way his lips curve into that cocky smirk of his.

It drives Nero mad.

Dante is too perfect. Like ridiculously, unfairly perfect. He has perfect teeth with perfect lips. Perfect blue eyes and a perfect nose. His perfect hair frames his perfect face and his stupid perfect neck leads eyes down to his way too perfect chest and abs when he’s not wearing a shirt, which is often. His arms are perfect and his hands are big and _perfect_. Nero can’t help but having untoward thoughts about them.

And don’t even get him started on his legs.

He has this habit of stretching out on the couch, regardless of who else might be sitting on it. Meaning Nero ends up with Dante’s legs in his lap on a regular basis. Which was fine, before Nero realised he’s got this hopeless, childish crush on the man. But now, it makes Nero’s cheeks burn fiercely and makes it impossible for him to concentrate on anything. So much so that the last couple times, he’s resorted to pushing the man off him.

It’s harsh, the way he’s pushing Dante away. He knows it is. And he knows it’s sudden and probably looks like it’s out of nowhere. But being physically close to him is too much for Nero most of the time. Especially when he knows his crush could never be reciprocated. And even if by some miracle it were, it would destroy the roommate relationship they have. It could ruin their friendship if anything went wrong.

No, nothing would ever come of the crush, better for Nero to stamp it down and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Not that he’s doing a very good job. He blushes like mad every time he’s in the same room with Dante and he knows he’s acting strange. He knows he’s being a dick.

He ends up spending more time locked away in his room, refusing to venture out in fear he’ll run into Dante and have to pretend everything is normal when it is most decidedly _not_. Not with infuriatingly perfect Dante standing half a step away being distracting and _perfect_.

So he hides.

He’s doing exactly that early February, sketching out more attempts to get Dante’s eyes right. He still hasn’t filled in the face in that first page in the sketchbook Dante got him. Everything else in the drawing has been finished for some time, but he’s still not confident he can get his expression right, so he practices in other sketchbooks in the hopes he’ll find _something_ he can put there. But he’s still struggling. He can get them to look near photorealistic, but there’s still something missing from every drawing that Nero simply can’t place and can’t get right.

A knock on his door rouses him from his concentration, “It’s open.”

He realises his mistake far too late, because now Dante is standing in his room. And Nero can feel his cheeks heat and his mind wander to all of the possibilities of the situation that he knows Dante would never take because fucking Hell, it’s not like Dante would go for him anyway and even if he did a one time thing is not something Nero is interested in. It would hurt too much. It would be like flying too close to the sun and then falling to his death in the water below just like that dumb bitch Icarus.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, kid. The girls are coming over and we were gonna hang out, maybe drink a little. Wanna join?”

Nero almost immediately says no. Alcohol plus Dante when he’s got this stupid crush is just a spell for disaster, he knows it. But with Trish and Lady around… maybe it won’t be so bad. He wants to be sociable with them all and he wants to prove, to himself mostly, that he can pretend this crush doesn’t exist. And this seems like the safest way to do it.

“Sure, I guess.” He hopes it sounds like he’s not bothered, but he thinks it probably sounds more like he’s just disinterested. Not what he was going for.

Dante gives him an odd look, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. No one is forcing you.”

Nero shakes his head, “No, no, sorry, I’m just a little distracted. Sounds like fun.”

“Alright then,” Dante still sounds suspicious but also seems to let it go, “Girls should be here any minute, wanna come help me make up a pitcher of drinks?”

Again, Nero nearly says no on impulse, but something about the way Dante’s eyes plead at him make it really hard to say no. Plus, it would probably look pretty weird if he backed out of helping after agreeing to hang out. “Yeah, sure.” He sets his sketchbook aside and gets up, catching the way Dante looks at the book and Nero immediately feels kind of bad because it isn’t the one he gave him and he wasn’t even using the pencils he gave him. They’re special to him, but Dante might not realise that, based on the way he looks slightly hurt when he sees that they’re both set a bit farther away, looking barely used.

Nero steps in front of it to break Dante’s line of sight, which seems to bring him back to the matter at hand. The elder man holds out an arm in an after you gesture, letting Nero lead the way out to the living room. He considerately closes the bedroom door behind him when he exits as well.

In the kitchen, Dante pulls down the tequila and a big pitcher. “Tequila sunrises good with you, kid? Lady’s request.” Nero makes a noise of assent and opens the fridge to get the orange juice Dante must have bought at some point. “You know how to make it?”

“Two part orange, one part tequila. I’m guessing the grenadine is for after it’s in a glass and not for the pitcher because that defeats the purpose.” His answer is automatic and matter of fact. He knows how to mix a lot of drinks. May not know how to drink them, but he can mix them.

Dante smiles, and starts measuring out the tequila. “I’ve got two cups of this, so we need four of the juice. You got it?”

“I know how to make a drink, Dante.”

His words are probably a little more harsh than they needed to be. But he’s wound up and trying really hard not to stare at Dante’s hands and how big they are. And the way his sweatpants hang dangerously low over his hips, showing more skin than is strictly modest.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing!” It isn’t until Dante starts shouting that Nero realises he had been pouring the orange juice without paying attention, letting the juice flow over the edge of the measuring cup and pool on the counter. He immediately rights the bottle he’s holding and reaches for the paper towel.

“Sorry, sorry, I got distracted. I’ve got it.” Still, Dante goes to grab some paper towel as well and their hands meet briefly before Dante pulls away. The touch burns through Nero’s hand and up his arm. He shudders with how intense the tiny brush of contact is. It distracts him just enough again that he ends up only cleaning up the last of what’s left after Dante has mopped up most of the mess he had made.

Nero goes to grab the orange juice again after pouring the first two cups into the pitcher and Dante’s hand on his arm stops him. He stares at the hand as if it has offended him in some way. In a way, it has. The electricity from the brush of hands is increased tenfold with the sustained contact and it makes Nero feel weak.

“Hey, you alright?”

He takes a step back, breaking the contact between them. “I’m fine. I told you, I’m just distracted.”

Dante looks at him for a long time in silence. He looks worried, and Nero feels kind of bad for making him feel that way. He doesn’t mean to worry Dante, he just wants to… he doesn’t want to make things weird with this stupid crush. “If you say so.”

Nero goes back to measuring out the juice without incident and without words. Once the pitcher is full, Dante caps it and shakes it and Nero has another crisis. He had been avoiding noticing the band tee Dante had chosen to wear that day and how it doesn’t quite fit at the sleeves, but when he shakes the pitcher, that fact is impossible to miss. Dante’s arms tense with the movement and his biceps flex. The shirt fabric stretches nearly to its limit to accommodate the action. Nero has to struggle to keep in the sound that wants desperately to escape from his throat.

His hypnosis by biceps is broken when Dante puts the pitcher back down, and leans against the counter. “Now we just have to wait for the girls.” He looks around as if he’s searching space for something else to say. “Want a drink?”

Nero shrugs, just wanting to get out of the confines of the kitchen and put some distance between him and Dante before he implodes. Dante grins and grabs two glasses from the cupboard and pours them nearly to the top with the alcohol mixture. “Grenadine is over there, can you grab it?” He points Nero toward a cupboard on the side of the kitchen where he’s standing and Nero complies easily. He reaches up to get the bottle and pushes it across the counter to avoid accidentally touching Dante’s hand again.

It only takes a moment for Dante to splash in the perfect bit of grenadine to get that pretty sunrise effect so indicative of the drink. He picks both glasses up and holds one out toward Nero. Nero takes his, careful to try to avoid brushing fingers. He’s only mostly successful and there is a bit of contact that makes Nero jolt inwardly.

He takes a big drink and regrets it immediately. The drink is strong, the tequila smooth but potent. The grenadine, all sunk at the bottom, is not nearly enough to hide the taste of alcohol. And it all goes straight to Nero’s head. He’s already feeling a bit tipsy just from the one gulp. Before drinking any more, he walks over to the couch and sits down, planning not to get up from that spot until he goes to bed.

Unfortunately, Dante seems to have a somewhat similar idea. He plops himself right down on the other side of the couch, like he always does, and only hesitates for the briefest of moments before putting his legs up into Nero’s lap. Nero doesn’t even catch the way something like concern or maybe even fear flits across Dante’s features just before he decides to go for it.

In an effort not to be weird and just push Dante away, Nero takes another large swig of his drink, getting him to halfway down. The alcohol settles in his stomach with the sweet taste of orange juice and grenadine. He takes a deep breath and lets his brain fuzz over a bit. Just enough that the feeling of Dante’s legs laying across his lap doesn’t make him overthink his entire life.

And then he takes another drink.

He’s finished his entire glass and Dante is pouring him a second when the door opens. No knock. The girls don’t need to. They have keys, after all. “Hey boys, hope you’re ready to get this party started!” It’s Lady’s voice, introducing them as she stumbles into the apartment. “We miiight have started pregaming.”

Dante glances over from the kitchen and smoothly changes his trajectory to get two more glasses from the cupboard before finishing pouring drinks for everyone. “You did more than that if you’re already drunk.”

When Dante says that, Nero realises that he’s never really actually seen Lady drunk. Tipsy, sure. But she can knock back way more than any of them and still be pretty much fine. She’s got the tolerance of a 400lb Irishman, despite coming up to Nero’s chin. And Trish looks only slightly better than Lady already does. She grabs the desk chair and drags it over to the couch so she can sit and Lady just lowers herself down into her lap.

“It’s been a day,” Lady replies, nonchalantly. Dante makes a sound and leaves it at that. Nero can’t help but feel like he missed some silent conversation that happened between them. But he also knows what a ‘day’ is like and how it’s pretty nice to let go and get smashed sometimes. He can’t even imagine how much she must have already drank.

And in a show of creepy mind reading ability, Dante asks what Nero had been thinking, “How much have you had already?”

Lady’s head rolls along her shoulders as she peels herself away from Trish enough to answer, “Mmmm, I had a bottle of Vodka to myself. And some gin.”

“You hate gin,” Dante says flatly.

She smiles and takes the drink Dante offers her, “Yup!”

Dante looks at Trish while he gives her a drink as well and she just shrugs. Again, Nero feels like he’s missing something. But Dante seems not to press the issue after that so Nero promptly forgets about it. Especially when he’s got a fresh glass in his hand and he feels kinda floaty.

And judging by Dante’s biggest bong coming out, he’s going to feel a whole lot more floaty in a bit. “Yeah!” Lady shouts, reaching a hand out and opening and closing her hand in a gimme motion.

“Calm down you fucking stoner, let me pack a bowl first.” Dante does as he promises. He gets out what Nero is pretty sure his premium weed and packs a massive bowl before pushing the bong toward Lady.

She smiles and downs three gulps of her drink before pulling the bong closer and motioning for a lighter. Dante hands her one and she takes one of the most massive hits Nero has ever seen. She really must have had a day.

The bong starts going around and when it comes around to Nero, he takes a modest hit before holding it out again for someone else. Dante pushes it back toward him though, “You need at least two more of those, that was pathetic.” Nero sneers in his general direction, but pulls the bong back and takes another hit, this one much bigger. “That’s what I’m talking about!” The praise makes Nero blush and cough out half his hit.

Fortunately, no one says anything about it and he’s allowed to pass the bong on this time. He does get a _look_ from Trish though. A look that says something like ‘I know something it up here.’ Goddamnit why is he so obvious?

After a while, Nero loses count of the bowls they’ve shared and what number drink he’s on. And he doesn’t care. He’s drunk and high and he feels warm and safe and his brain can’t hold onto any of those silly anxieties that have been plaguing him for what feels like ages.

Instead, he’s just comfortable while they laugh together at stupid nonsense. Dante orders pizza (of course) and they devour three large’s between the four of them with no problem. And after they’ve finished eating, the bong goes around yet again. It’s about this time that Nero feels he immediately needs to draw. He shoves Dante’s legs aside and stands up.

And immediately falls back into the couch.

“Woah there, kid, where ya going?”

Nero looks over at him like the answer should be obvious. The answer is obvious. It feels obvious to him. “Sketchbook, I need to draw.” He can hear the way his words are slurred but it doesn’t matter.

Dante gets up then, “Stay put, I’ll get it for you. Don’t think you’re safe to be walking around.”

He steps out of the room and into the hall and Nero shouts after him, “And my pencils, too!”

When he comes back, he’s got a book and his pencils in hand and Nero immediately throws open the first page. But the drawing he’s expecting isn’t there. He puts his palm over the page, patting around as if the page is simply hidden by some illusion. When he doesn’t find the missing page, he closes the book again and realises what happened. “No, not this one. The other one. The one…” his mind can’t make the words ‘the one you got me’ to come out, but Dante seems to understand. At least, Nero hopes he does, because he turns around and goes back to his room to hopefully retrieve the proper book.

Nero grins wide when Dante brings back the proper book this time. And Dante smiles too, and it’s brilliant, and it’s exactly what Nero needs. He wants to memorise that expression for all of time and paint it across every page. Tattoo it to the inside of his eyelids so he can just look at that smile any time he closes his eyes.

It’s so… _pleased_.

He searches through his pencils for the one he wants and when he finally finds it, he flips to that first page and starts sketching in some light lines. The room disappears as he finally starts filling in that blank space that was haunting the page. He hyper fixates on the way the graphite flows on the page, almost mesmerised by the way his hand moves. He doesn’t doubt the expression he’s putting down, just lets it happen. His mind doesn’t even really register how the lines and shading come together, he just trusts that his hand knows what it’s doing.

“Whatcha drawing there, kiddo?” Lady’s voice interrupts his complete absorption in the task at hand and he stops. Her voice is a lot closer than he had previously remembered her being. He spins his head, searching for her.

He nearly jumps when he realises she’s leaning on the couch behind him. He tries to subtly cover the drawing. “Ahh, just a picture I started a while back.”

Lady cranes her neck, trying to see the page he’s covering, “Can I see it?”

Nero tries to come up with some reason why she can’t, some excuse to keep her from looking. But he comes up empty and ends up sighing and uncovering the page in defeat. It’s nearly finished now. Most of the picture has been done for days, it was just Dante’s face that hadn’t been filled in. Now it’s nearly all done. He’s just got a bit more shading before he can comfortably call it finished.

“Shit, Nero. That’s amazing.” He blushes deeply, hardly noticeable with the flush from the alcohol. “Seriously, it’s… it’s…”

Somehow, Nero manages to move the sketchbook out of the way before Lady vomits on him. It’s all he really cares about, saving that book from the permanent damage that would be done by the contents of Lady’s stomach.

All at once, everyone is moving. Trish is suddenly behind Lady, holding her shoulders and leading her toward the bathroom. Dante is in the kitchen grabbing paper towel and throwing the roll at Nero before starting the sink and getting a wet towel. Or at least, that’s what Nero assumes he’s doing. He’s too busy using the offered paper towel to mop up most of the mess.

Unfortunate as it is, Nero is way past caring. It’s uncomfortable and he wants to get cleaned up, but he doesn’t really care that it happened. Party foul, shit happens. It doesn’t even take that much to clean up. Before long, there’s a pile of dirty paper towel and his clothes are no longer a mess, just wet and gross. He needs to change.

Before he can get up, though, Dante arrives at his side and starts wiping at him with a wet towel, cleaning up the last of what is left on him. With everything happening, Nero feels considerably sobered and Dante’s doting starts to feel incredibly awkward incredibly quickly. Especially when he goes for Nero’s lap and starts wiping at his jeans.

Nero jumps up at that, wanting to stop him as soon as humanly possible. “I, uh, I’m gonna find something to change into.” He quickly walks back to his room, trying to escape as fast as he can. Before he can disappear though, Trish comes out of the bathroom and stops him.

“Nero, she wants you.”

He looks at her in bewilderment, “I’m gonna change first?” It comes out as a question even though it isn’t. But Trish doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, just hurry, I don’t want her to be alone.”

Nero offers her his most sincere smile and nods before closing his door. He shucks his soiled clothes and throws them in a corner to be dealt with later. He finds a comfy pair of sweatpants and an old shirt to throw on before leaving to go to the bathroom where Lady is.

When he opens the door, Lady is sitting against the bathtub next to the toilet looking better but still not great. “Hey, Lady. Feeling better?”

She laughs, “Of course you would ask after me first. I’m fine, I’ve been way worse.” She hangs her head and her voice goes serious. “I’m sorry.”

Now Nero really doesn’t know what’s happening, “For what? It’s fine, shit happens.”

She looks up again and her expression is this weird mix of intensity and pleading. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk. I had a shitty day and I needed to escape but I shouldn’t have let it get that far. And I almost ruined your drawing. I can tell you worked really hard on it. I’m flattered you included me.”

He blushes, “It’s no big deal really. I just started drawing and… I don’t know. Thought I’d start with friends.”

She smiles, “It really is beautiful. You, uh, you really got the way Trish looks at me. I didn’t realise she did that when other people were around.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughs, “She does it constantly. It would be super gross if I wasn’t happy for you.”

Lady giggles and then coughs. Nero grabs one of the plastic cups Dante keeps in the bathroom and fills it with water before handing it down to her. “Thanks.” She gulps it down and sets the cup aside on the rim of the tub. “Are you alright?”

Huh? “What do you mean? Of course I am.”

He gets a stern look for that. “A little birdie tells me you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Dante. Of course he told them and of course they would ask. “I’m fine. I’m just going through some stuff, I’ll be fine.” As soon as he gets rid of this crush. He’ll be fine.

“I won’t press but I also won’t pretend I’m not curious.” Lady picks at some invisible fuzz on her jeans. “You can always talk to me if you need support of a shoulder or just a distraction. I don’t mind. And sometimes… sometimes it’s good to just get things off your chest.” She pauses and focuses her attention back on him, no longer picking at fuzz. “Or you could also talk to Dante. You may not realise it, but he’s actually a really good listener when it’s important.”

Nero blanches, shaking his head, “No, can’t talk to him. Not… not about this at least.”

She gives him a curious look, cocking her head to one side. “Why not?”

He set himself up for that one, he should have known she would ask. “I just… can’t, ok? I can’t.”

“Alright, ok,” she holds her hands up in surrender. “But don’t hold it all in. You don’t have to talk to him or me or whatever but you should probably talk to someone. It’s not good to keep everything inside. It builds up and gets worse that way.”

Nero can tell she’s speaking from experience. Her words are sincere and meaningful. He offers her a placating smile, “Sure, Lady. I won’t let it get that far. Promise.” He doesn’t have a clue who he can talk to about his little problem but he promised he wouldn’t let it fester so he’ll figure something out.

“Good.” There’s silence after that, with both of them just sitting there quietly, neither saying anything. Then Lady claps her hands together, “Well, I could use another bowl or two and you look way too sober, ready to go back out there?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He stands, holding a hand down for Lady. She takes it and stands, swaying slightly. Without a word, Nero pulls her close and puts an arm around her waist. She reciprocates, putting one of her arms around his waist and giving him and appreciative smile. They leave the bathroom together, Nero offering his support to her as they walk. When they make it back to the living room, Lady goes back to Trish’s lap and kisses her girlfriend’s nose with a smile while Nero takes his place back on the couch.

Without further ado, the bong goes back around several more times and Lady tells Dante to make Nero another drink. And before long, it’s like nothing had interrupted the night. Late into the night, they finally decide to go to bed. Nero offers to take the couch so the girls can have his bed. They argue, but he insists. It doesn’t bother him to sleep on the couch and it’s too small for two people to spend a whole night on.

Once everyone is settled where they belong, Nero lays down on the couch in the empty, dark living room and realises his mistake. The couch smells like Dante. Smells like leather and Jack with that dark clean smell that Nero can’t place but just screams Dante. It fills his nostrils and permeates his brain. His soul. It feels like it becomes part of him and he can’t escape it. Even if he turns so his face is on his side of the couch, it still smells like Dante. And the blanket smells like Dante. And the pillow. Everything smells like him and it creates this pressure in Nero’s chest and it _hurts_.

He doesn’t sleep. Not only because he’s got this ache in his chest that he can’t get rid of. But he also doesn’t want to fall asleep and dream of Dante. Because with that scent all around him, he’s sure the man would haunt him in his sleep even more than he would in his waking life. And he really can’t afford to wake up with a problem between his thighs. Especially with the observant girls likely to be the ones to wake him and find him in such a compromising position.

So he doesn’t sleep. He just suffers in the darkness on the couch where all he can smell and all he can think about is Dante. He is acutely aware of the fact that the man is only a few feet away, in a room just down the hall, probably sleeping like a baby. He’s probably dreaming about some pretty girl or something. Maybe he even…

Nope, not thinking about that. He’s avoiding getting a hard on in the living room. And fantasising about Dante’s late night activities is the opposite of helpful. He quickly stamps down that line of thought and tries to focus on something– _anything_ – else. Before long, he ends up sitting up and opening his sketchbook. For the rest of the night, into the morning, he makes final changes to his first page and starts a new page filled with faces from that night. And yeah, most of them end up being Dante. Dante laughing, Dante snorting, Dante taking a hit from the bong, Dante taking a sip of his drink. Dante, Dante Dante.

It all comes back to Dante.

\--

With the weather warming up and spring on the way, Nero finds himself with incredible stress. Projects and work and classes and trying to keep from being obvious that he _still_ has this stupid crush on his roommate. It all tends to be so much on any given day and he feels like he’s falling apart. Not to mention the impending nearness of Easter. It’s Nero’s least favourite holiday, not because of anything to do with the holiday itself, but because it’s such an “important” holiday for his religious parents. And that means he has to go home. It might be a shorter break than Christmas was, but it requires so much more effort.

But he can’t focus on that right now. Not when he had three projects due today and a test and he’s just managed to finish all of that and he’s on the way home finally, after a long day. He’s just about to leave campus when his phone buzzes with a text message. From Dante.

**Hey kid uve got ur keys on you?**

Nero scoffs at Dante’s horrendous text speak. He automatically pats his pocket to check for his keys which he knows he grabbed that morning.

Except they aren’t there. He’s got his wallet in his pocket and his phone in his hand, but his keys are missing. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and runs back to his last class, hoping he had just left them there somehow. The room is thankfully empty, not housing another class, so it gives Nero the opportunity to check it out. But his keys aren’t anywhere to be found. He starts backtracking his entire day, checking classrooms and the studio and he doesn’t find them anywhere.

He doesn’t have his keys either.

Finally, he dejectedly pulls out his phone.

**I swear I grabbed them but I can’t find them anywhere. I must have left them at home.**

Not a moment later, his phone vibrates with a message from Dante.

**Shit**

And, seconds later, a follow up.

**Guess ill call the girls**

Nero sighs. At least they have a spare key and they won’t be locked out until some landlord or something decides to come to their rescue. Actually, come to think of it, do they even have a landlord? Dante’s never mentioned one and Nero’s never had any reason to talk to one. Dante might even actually own the place.

He shakes his head and taps back a message.

**Be home soon.**

He puts his phone back in his pocket and starts heading home. It’s not like he has anything to do at campus anymore that night. Not that he’d want to anyway. He’s exhausted after a long day and he just wants to go lay down. Not that he’ll be able to do that, but maybe the girls will be there by the time he gets there and it will all be fine.

They weren’t. It wasn’t.

Nero gets to the apartment a few minutes later and he sees Dante sitting on the stoop steps to their door. He waves at him and Nero sighs again before walking up. “Hey, Dante.”

“Girls are busy and won’t be here for a while so we get to hang out here. Unless you wanna go somewhere?”

He tosses his bag down next to the steps before sitting down, “No, I’m beat. I’d rather wait.”

Dante grins and bumps into him, “Good thing it’s warm today, would suck a lot of shit if this had happened two months ago.” Nero hums his confirmation, agreeing with the assessment. He leans back on the steps and looks up at the sky, not really sure what to do or what to say. Fortunately, Dante always seems to know what to say. “So how was that test you had today?”

Nero rolls his head lazily to look over at Dante, “Fine I guess. I studied so I feel pretty good about it.”

“Hmm,” Dante hums, “I’m sure you did well.” He bumps into him again, “We should celebrate when you get your score back.”

“Why?” Nero sits up, perplexed. “It’s just a normal test that doesn’t mean much.”

“I don’t know, you seem stressed. We could like, I don’t know, go out for dinner or just stay in and smoke, I don’t care. Something that makes you happy.”

There he goes, being so fucking kind. And making Nero fall even more in crush with him. It’s stupid little things like this that baffle Nero. Dante just notices things that no one else seems to. And not only that, but then he acts on them in little ways that just make Nero feel _good_. “Um, ok I guess.”

Silence falls between them. They sit there quietly in each other’s company listening to the sounds of cars driving by and distant sounds of the town. It’s Dante that breaks the quiet companionship between them. “Wanna smoke?”

“Are you serious? We’re in public. Why do you even have weed on you right now?”

Dante shrugs, “Why not?” He laughs, “Nah, I just picked some up so it’s mostly a coincidence.”

Now it’s Nero’s turn to shrug, “Sure, why the fuck not. Might as well do something to pass the time.”

Dante reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of his pipes and a bag full of weed. He packs them a bowl and offers Nero the first hit. Nero thanks him before taking the pipe and lighting up. They pass the pipe back and forth, talking about whatever comes to mind and contemplating life. At least, that’s what Nero does. Up until he sees a car pull into the parking lot and panics. He quickly tries to get Dante to stash everything so the other person now in the lot doesn’t see them. But Dante doesn’t seem to mind. “Don’t worry, it’s just the pizza guy.”

Nero stares at him incredulously. “Seriously. We’re stuck locked out of our apartment and you ordered pizza.” It’s a question in some ways, but he says it with such a flat tone that it doesn’t come out that way.

“Of course!”

Of course. It is very on brand for the man. The pizza guy comes over and acts like it’s totally normal for two guys to be smoking weed on their stoop instead of inside their apartment. He takes Dante’s money and heads back to his car and drives off while Dante opens up his pizza box and takes one of the cheesy slices for himself.

They eat quietly, only chatting occasionally. The pipe keeps getting passed between slices and before long, Nero is high as a kite and quite warm feeling, despite the slight chill in the air. Even though they’re stuck on the stoop and his ass hurts and is cold, Nero can’t say he minds how he’s ended up spending his afternoon. He’s feeling good and comfortable.

And so fucking tired.

The weed doesn’t help, makes Nero feel sleepy and loose. It’s been a long ass day and now he’s sitting and relaxing and he just wants to sleep. He can barely keep his eyes open.

“Are you ok?”

Dante’s voice almost doesn’t register at first. It takes Nero a while to understand what he’s saying. What he’s asking. And even then, he doesn’t really get it, “Huh?”

Nero looks over at Dante and finds him looking very contemplative, staring down at the concrete beneath them. “Are you ok? Or did I do something? You know you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, I won’t hold you here.”

Now he’s really confused. “What are you talk about? Of course I want to stay here. Don’t have anywhere else to go.” Plus, he must admit that he actually really loves living there. He can’t believe how lucky he got in finding Dante.

“I could help you find somewhere else.”

Nero turns and stares at him outright. What is going on? “Do _you_ want me to leave?”

“No, kid,” his voice is quiet, “no. I don’t want you to leave. But if you want to…” He trails off and Nero starts to get irrationally angry.

“Then quit pushing me away! You don’t make decisions for me, Dante. If I want to go, I’ll go. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” Nero really doesn’t know why he’s so heated all of a sudden. Maybe it’s fear. Fear that Dante really does want him out of the apartment. That he’s finally sick of him and just wants him out. It’s not like he contributes much of anything.

“Oh, I never doubted it.” Dante’s voice sounds like it might crack and Nero’s temper instantly cools. He sounds _sad_. What the Hell does he have to be sad about?

“I’m staying.” He says it firmly. He doesn’t want to go. Unless Dante kicks him out, he’s not going anywhere.

Dante is quiet for just a moment. “Ok.” And that’s it. They don’t speak after that for a bit, but Dante starts passing the pipe between them again. Eventually, the tension from the sudden conversation seeps away and they settle back into normalcy once more. Nero steals the last slice of pizza, but doesn’t end up finishing it, so Dante takes his opportunity.

After a while, Nero looks around, hoping that he can somehow summon Lady or Trish, whichever is coming to be their salvation, to drive into the lot. “God, I’m beat. Where are they?”

Dante shrugs, “Probably punishing me for something or some bullshit. They’ll show up eventually.”

Well, Nero can’t keep himself awake. He was due a nap ages ago. And with the girls nowhere in sight currently, he doesn’t know what else to do. He tries to find a comfortable position, laying back on the steps, but nothing is working and the concrete is hard under him. Eventually, without even thinking, he leans into Dante. Dante molds around him easily, moving his arm to let Nero’s head rest on his chest and making it _so easy_ for Nero to just snuggle into him and close his eyes.

He’s asleep before he realises what he’s done.


	6. So Grown Up Behind a Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy again, so uh. Be careful if you have triggers. Lots of stuff happens.

Easter.

Somehow, in the few weeks leading up, Nero had pretty much forgotten the godforsaken holiday. Things are almost normal with Dante, even though he still harbours this massive crush he can’t seem to squash down enough. Work is going well, he’s getting to do more things that are more apprenticeship in nature and is stuck at reception less. He’s on top of his classes and he’s been getting good marks. He has had little to worry about despite having a pretty full schedule and Easter just kind of… sneaks up on him.

But now he’s dragging his feet trying to delay having to leave for the train station. Having to say goodbye to his friends for this dumb holiday no one even seems to care all that much about. Except his mother.

She’s likely to only be a little high this weekend. Less high, but more drunk. She can appear more normal if all she is is drunk, but it also makes her far more ornery and volatile. It means the rest of the town seeing more of her, but it also means more of Nero seeing her. And that is a recipe for disaster.

Once more, Dante volunteers to take him to the train station. Nero doesn’t even consider refusing. He wants those last few moments with the last pure thing in his life. He wants to spend as much time with Dante as he can before the upcoming weekend of concentrated Hell. Even if that’s just sitting quietly as the car draws ever nearer to the station.

When Dante pulls into a parking spot, Nero looks down at his lap, not wanting to get out of the car. It’s safe there. Dante is there. But he has to move and take a train to his least favourite place on Earth.

“Hey kid, you’ll miss your train if you don’t get moving soon.” Dante’s voice is soft and carries this hint of understanding. Like he knows that Nero hates going home despite him not saying a word on the matter one way or the other. He hates how well the man reads him sometimes.

Finally, Nero reaches down and opens the door, pushing out with a somber expression as he grabs his bag. Dante meets him at the back of the car and they walk into the station together. Unfortunately, when they get there, Nero’s train is already at the platform and mere minutes from leaving, so he barely has time to say goodbye.

Still, Dante sweeps him up in a crushing hug that might last for just longer than necessary. Nero doesn’t even care that his stomach is full of butterflies because the warmth and safety of the hug override everything else. It’s like Dante is imbuing him with some power to make it through the weekend. “See you Tuesday? I’ll come pick you up again.” Nero nods against his chest. “It’s just the weekend, you’ll be back before you know it.”

And as Nero pulls away and heads down to the platform, he can’t figure out if Dante’s last words were for his benefit or for Dante’s.

\--

It feels like far too soon that he’s seeing the house he grew up in again. It feels barely a moment since the last time he was here and it’s never long enough between visits. This is no exception, especially with his step dad driving into the driveway and mentioning offhand that he’ll be expected to help out around the house and attend services. The first would be that night for Good Friday.

Nero hates Easter.

It starts the moment he steps into the house. He doesn’t even have time to walk up the stairs and put his bag down in his room before a bottle comes hurling at him, barely missing his head. “And where have you been!”

The glass shatters when it contacts the wall and Nero flinches. His mother is nearby, staring at him with red eyes and an unfocused gaze. Drunk. “School.” If he tries to say more, he’s pretty sure he’d only upset her more, so he saves his breath.

He turns to continue up the stairs but is stopped when his mother screams at him again, “Where are you going? I didn’t say you could leave!”

He sighs inwardly, terrified to let it show lest she take it as some kind of insolence on his part. With great effort, he turns toward the irate woman. “Did you need something?”

“There’s no food here! How are we supposed to entertain guests after church with no food? Go get some.”

Classic. Make Nero the errand boy. At least this one gets him out of the house. “Sure, Let me just go put my stuff down and I’ll go out, anything in particular?” He tries to keep his voice light and accommodating, but he’s not sure how successful he actually is.

“Ham. And eggs. And potatoes.” She starts listing things in a completely random order, some things she probably doesn’t need and doesn’t care about, and there are undoubtedly things not on the list that she will need which Nero just has to guess at. When she’s finished rambling off things she wants from the store, Nero excuses himself, throws his bag in his room and takes a deep breath before the next part of his little adventure.

He finds Grant trying to placate his mother in the living room, opening her a new bottle of vodka and putting on a movie she likes. Nero shuffles in nervously. His voice can barely be heard over the sounds of displeasure his mother is making. “Can I take the car?”

Grant still hears him though. He knew he would. The creep. “Mmm, fine. Don’t you dare scratch it.” Nero doesn’t bother dignifying the barely veiled threat with a response and just hold out his hand while Grant fishes around in his pocket.

The car is a privilege Nero hardly gets access to. He really only gets to drive if he’s being sent out an errand just such as the one his mother has decided to send him on. Grocery shopping. With the store not the closest thing and a list far too long to expect him to carry things, they are sensible enough to grant him access to the car, but he’s also expected not to daly around or go other places. If he does and they find out, and they always do, he’d be in for it.

He takes the key and leaves the house, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to irritate his mother further. Drunk, she’s quite the temper. It’s probably where Nero gets his own rampant temper from. But he doesn’t like to think of it like that. That makes it a bad thing. And while his temper has certainly gotten him in all kinds of trouble, especially when he was younger and tended to get in plenty of fights at school, it has also saved him on occasion. So he doesn’t like to think of it as something terrible he got from his mom but rather a part of him he can control most times. Especially now that he’s learned how.

Walking, the store would be thirty minutes away. But driving it only takes him five. Once there, he parks and grabs a cart before going in and wandering the aisles. He tries to take his time as much as he deems is safe, but not to take too long. He gets most of the things his mother listed off, especially the ones that would be important in making a meal for whoever his mother wanted to invite over. There are some things he’s pretty sure she just listed for the sake of it and decides to leave those out. Finally, he reaches the alcohol aisle and grabs two big bottles of vodka for his mom, a bottle of scotch for his step dad, and some wine for dinner. Never a shortage of alcohol at his house.

Finally, with a full cart and a heavy heart, he heads to the register. Usually, he would make a beeline directly for self checkout to avoid seeing anyone he knows and also to avoid conversing with the cashier. But today, he has too much and there’s alcohol that he might not get away with buying if he tries to go to self checkout. So a regular till it is.

He picks a line with a cashier he’s familiar with enough that he knows she’ll let him through with the alcohol. Especially when she sees the wine. Religious town, wine is less of an alcohol and more of a ritualistic ingredient. When it’s his turn, he puts everything up on the belt and takes the judging look from the cashier. When he mentions it’s for his parents, she immediately warms, happily scanning his items and racking up the price of his purchase.

The price tag is bit. Bigger than Nero is really prepared for. Still, he pays and steers the cart filled with his groceries out to the car. He might get compensation for paying for the groceries, but more likely than not he won’t. It’s something he’s used to but that he hates no less. It’s a price he has to accept to get out of the house and away from his parents.

When the car is loaded up, he finally gets back into the car and drives back to the house. He takes his time as much as he can, but it still only takes about five minutes before he’s back in the driveway. Now he changes gears, moving more quickly to unload the car and bring everything into the house. He knows he’s expected to be the one to put everything away, so he just gets to it without waiting for the instruction.

Once all the groceries are put away and the bags disposed of, Nero escapes to his room for the first time he’s gotten to breathe since arriving. And he knows it won’t be for long, with the service that evening, but at least it’s something. He takes the opportunity to pull out his phone and send a text over to Dante that he’s arrived and probably won’t be able to talk much during the weekend because of services and ‘family time.’ Sounds like bullshit, but it’s more or less true. Not to mention that he still doesn’t want to taint Dante with all of _this_.

“NERO!”

He’s barely put his phone down when his mother’s shrill voice screams for him. And he knows that he’s walking into trouble. He slowly comes out of his room, terrified for what is to come.

He finds her in the kitchen, fuming. She’s got the fridge hanging open and is staring into it, freshly stocked with all the groceries Nero had bought. When he approaches, she turns to him and stalks up to him in a couple steps, grabbing him around his bicep with vicious fingers. He may be bigger than her now, but growing up that wasn’t true and there are some things you can’t unlearn.

He cowers, curls up and tries to make himself smaller. He still doesn’t know what she’s angry about but it doesn’t really matter because the next thing that’s going to happen won’t change.

“Where the Hell is the milk, you fucking waste of space? I told you to get milk!” She didn’t. She shakes him, grabbing both his arms now, “Well? Where is it!”

No point in trying to defend himself or lie. “I didn’t get any.”

She slaps him across the face. He was ready for it, but it still manages to come as a surprise. His face stings with the impact and he leaves his head turned to the side where the force had pushed it.

Big mistake.

“Don’t you look away when I’m talking to you!” Her hand gropes on the counter next to her and finds a flower vase that was put out to be filed with water and fake flowers for dinner later. It’s not an insignificant piece to choose. Nero tenses in preparation.

The blows come hard and fast. She pummels the vase into his stomach over and over. By the third blow, his knees give out and he falls to the ground, trying to curl up to protect his vital organs. She doesn’t seem to mind and simply beat him wherever she can reach. His side and back take much of the blows, but one catches him across the side of the face and breaks skin just behind his ear.

He doesn’t make a sound. He has enough experience with this to know it will just anger her further. So he holds back any cries and moans of pain and silently lets tears fall while she beats him into what she probably believes is submission. It isn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She finally tires herself out, landing one more blow to his head, making him see stars from the impact. He waits for the next blow, but it never comes. Soon after, he hears her footsteps leave him there on the kitchen floor, curled up in a ball like he’s seven again.

It takes him some time before he even tries to roll onto his hands and knees. He coughs and fortunately no blood comes up. That’s good, means he hasn’t punctured his lungs or his stomach. Means he managed to keep her from doing the worst kind of damage. Still, coughing hurts like Hell and he’s pretty sure at least one of his ribs is cracked if not worse. That’s going to take a while to heal.

Slowly, he pushes himself up to his knees and then makes the grand effort to get up. It takes him a long time to be able to manage to stand again, and when he does he has to keep hunched significantly just to not cry out in pain. A quick glance to the kitchen clock reveals he’s only got about an hour to suck up the pain and be ready for the evening service, so he does his best to breathe through it and drags himself up the stairs.

Once he makes it to his room, he collapses into his bed with a sound that is nothing shy of agony. It isn’t the worst beating he’s gotten from his dear mother, but it certainly isn’t the best either. And it’s been long enough that he’s not really used to it anymore. His body doesn’t quite remember how to just forget about the pain and move on, and he’s not as young as he used to be, his healing times are getting worse.

Everything in him screams for him to just send Dante a text, tell him to come pick him up and keep him far away from here forever. But he _can’t_. For one, he can’t just expect Dante to drop everything and show up here, two hours away from school, to pick him up. For two, Grant would probably just come after him. While Christmas is more _his_ holiday for torturing Nero, it would still be a town wide scandal if Nero weren’t around for Easter Sunday.

And to top it all off, Nero is ashamed.

He’s ashamed that he still can’t stand up to his junkie drunk of a mother. He’s ashamed that he fell nearly immediately to cower against her blows. He’s ashamed that he can’t tell anyone. He’s ashamed how _weak_ he is. How pathetic and miserable. His mother is right, he is a waste of space. Useless.

After a half hour, he forces himself to get up and dig around in his bag for his church clothes. It’s going to take him his remaining half hour just to get dressed with the fresh pain settling in and starting to bruise. Especially after lying immobile, moving again is difficult. Still, he pushes himself, drags his clothes off and manages to get his pants on fairly easily. But the shirt is much more difficult, requiring him to stretch his arms and move his ribs and send sharp pains lancing through his chest. Each shock of pain makes him gasp, which only makes the pain worse. By the time he’s got his shirt buttoned, he’s panting with the effort it takes to breathe and the pain from doing so.

At least his tie is easy enough to do without hurting himself too much. Once he finishes, he ventures back out of his room, trying to appear in as little pain as possible. Because it won’t do to show the neighbours ‘what happens in the privacy of our own home.’ His first stop is in the bathroom between his room and his parents’ where the medicine cabinet usually has some pain killers. He pops a few advil, hoping that will at least make it easier to pretend he didn’t just receive a royal beating.

“Ah, there he is. Look at you, you should clean up more often.” Grant’s voice grates on Nero’s soul as he enters the living room to show that he’s ready in time for church and doesn’t need yet another beating for making them late.

He’s made that mistake too many times before.

Still, that means he has to sit around with his parents in the living room since he’s a little early. And, still in pain, it’s a little much. A lot much. ‘Family’ time is a lot much no matter what the circumstances and these are certainly not the best of them.

“So, Nero, how’s school?” Grant asks seemingly nonchalantly. Nero wonders what his motives are.

“Fine. Things are going well.” An honest enough answer. School actually is going quite well. Everything is kind of going quite well. If only he never had to come back here.

“Are you planning on visiting your poor old mom and dad this summer?” Ah, there it is. The ulterior motive.

Nero almost bites back with, “You’re not my dad,” but decides against it before it makes it out of his mouth. He’s had enough of a beating for the day. Instead, he gives his best excuse. “Work already doesn’t like letting me off for holidays. Summer is the busiest time of the year, I can’t get the time off.” Honest, plus he desperately needs the money anyway.

Grant sighs, clearly disappointed. “Shame, that. We’ll miss you. Maybe we can come visit you, then.”

Nero falters at that and winces because his sudden movement irritates his rib. His eyes go wide and he’s sure the terror is quite obvious in his expression. No. He can’t- he _can’t_. He’s in too much shock to even come up with a reasonable response. He just sits there on the living room couch in utter horror.

Grant grins. It’s this horrible, knowing grin that shows he knows how much he’s set Nero off balance. And that it was exactly his intention to have done so. “Maybe I can meet this Dante fellow you’ve been living with. Always good to keep tabs on the people you’re spending your time with.”

No. _No!_ Dante is _pure_. Dante is _his_. Grant has _no right_. He won’t let him destroy the only thing that has been pure and good in his life. He won’t let him taint Dante.

But he can’t say that. He can’t just outright deny him. At least not now. Not here. So he just puts on the most false smile he’s ever worn and nods placatingly.

The only time his mother has ever been anything resembling a saving grace is that moment when she appears, dressed in her church clothes with an actual attempt at makeup. She almost looks nice like this, almost like she hasn’t spent the whole day drinking away her cravings for something more. But what makes her really ideal in that moment is that she’s ready to go and even Grant can’t stop the hurricane that she is. She’s ready, so they all usher out of the house and pile into the car. Grant drives and his mother sits in the passenger seat rocking and muttering to herself nonsensically. Nero sits in the back, staring out the window and pretending that he isn’t in a car with the worst people he’s ever known driving toward the most ridiculous farce of a religious gathering.

He thinks about Dante. Can almost feel his warm presence next to him, soothing the pain in his chest and holding him gently. He can hear the way his laugh would rumble in his chest and can feel the vibration travel against his side. He can hear the way he’d say his name, pet his hair, calm his breathing so it doesn’t hurt quite so much. The smallest of smiles graces his lips as he fantasises about his roommate.

A door slamming knocks him out of his reverie. They’ve arrived at the church and his mother has gotten out of the car and is already walking toward the doors. Grant is stepping out as Nero realises his surroundings. Nero reaches for his own door latch and slides out of the car. The moment he moves, he regrets it. After sitting for a time in the car, not moving, his muscles seized up a bit and now moving is forcing the pained muscles to stretch angrily. He tries not to wince as he climbs out of the car and follows behind his parents, head down.

The service is like any other service in Nero’s mind. Some high and mighty guy standing at the front of a room of practically mindless people hanging onto his every word. Nero’s mother picks a seat in a pew near the front and does her part of hanging onto each and every word as well. He honestly has never been sure if her devotion to the faith is real or carefully fabricated, but either way, she does a good show of it. Grant cares a lot less, his posture closed off and bored more than attentive. Still, he does his own part in appearing to pay attention at least.

Nero doesn’t even try. He sits there and lets his mind wander. He can’t think of Dante again, not without fear of becoming very uncomfortable in a group full of people that believe sex for pleasure is a sin. Not to mention his fantasies are about another man, but no one knows that.

Instead, he thinks about Kyrie and school and anything he can to keep his mind occupied during the priest’s drivel. Still, Dante manages to weasel his way into his head. His smile, his laugh, his cavalier attitude. Nero’s so fucked over him. It’s grown since he realised he has a crush on the man. It’s much more than that now. It’s nearly an obsession and Nero can’t seem to get the man out of his mind and can’t stop thinking about how he just wants to be closer to him. And, inevitably, he thinks about how that will never happen because Dante doesn’t feel that way about him.

The service last nearly an hour and a half before murmuring breaks out in the pews and people start chatting with the other church goers. Nero never sees his mother quite as fake as he does after church when she chats happily with her ‘friends.’ She keeps a wide smile on her face and drags Nero over to her side, putting an arm around him and acting like she’s a proud mother. At least in public. Later, at dinner, she’ll express how disappointed she is in him because he’s doing a degree that will be useless and doesn’t visit home enough and how he never does all of the things that a ‘good’ son should do.

Nero stands around awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with anyone and praying someone from high school doesn’t decide to try to talk to him. He’s lucky enough in that regard, no one tries. Though he’s not terribly surprised. He didn’t have the best reputation among his classmates. He got into fights and was a loner. His only friends were Kyrie and Credo and people always assumed that was just because their parents are friends.

After most of the church has cleared, Nero’s mother finally leads them back toward the car. She’s invited a few of her friends over for dinner and they need to get back to make sure everything is ready and that the ham has finished cooking. Once there, his mother immediately puts Nero to work setting the table and cleaning anything that needs cleaning. It’s hard, with his body fighting him the whole time. Especially any time he needs to turn because his body tries to twist before it remembers he has a damaged rib.

He’s just finished when the doorbell rings, signalling the guests have arrived. His mother answers the door, bringing the gaggle of gossipy women to the living room. He hears his mother apologise for dinner not being quite ready, despite the fact that is _is_ ready. She just wants to appear busy and not shuttle everyone to the dining room immediately.

Nero keeps out of sight until he’s needed. It’s better that way. He busies himself with dusting in the kitchen. Despite the proximity to Grant, also busying himself there, it’s a better alternative to being somewhere his mother can make nasty comments about him.

“Nero!” Speak of the devil…

He comes to the call, stepping into the living room where his mother and three of her friends are sitting. He doesn’t bother announcing himself or speaking at all, knowing his mother will make her intentions known without him having to expend the energy and risk saying something wrong.

“Get these lovely ladies some wine, why don’t you.”

He almost leaves right after the instruction, but he thinks better, “Anything for you?”

She smiles, pleased at his apparent thoughtfulness. “A vodka sour would do me just as well.” Everything about her voice is fake. The tone, the words she chooses, everything is practiced and a careful plan to cover up what is underneath it all.

Nero leaves the room to procure the drinks. He pours three glasses of wine and mixes his mother’s drink, not even needing to measure. It’s a drink he’s made many times before. When he returns, he passes the glasses out to the women and is promptly ignored. He takes that as a sign to leave and does exactly that.

It’s not much after that before the women move into the dining room and Grant sets the table with the spread of food he’s made. Once all the food is on the table, he sits down and gives Nero a look telling him to sit as well. He does, quietly sitting at his chair and hoping that he’s mostly ignored.

Ignored is a word for it, he supposes. But it’s not really the right word. No one really speaks _to_ him. But they’re constantly speaking _about_ him. The guests tell stories of their own children, how good they are and how lovely it is to have them nearby while they study at the community college in town. How they’re doing impressive degrees like engineering or teaching, things that are worthwhile. When it’s Nero’s mother’s turn to tell her stories, she waxes on about how Nero left home for a useless art degree at a big university where he can’t come back home to visit and how he never helps around the house.

Nero takes the verbal abuse. He makes himself small and eats the small amount of food he put on his plate, moving it around more than actually eating it. The feeling of glares on him is present throughout the meal. Glares from his mother, but mostly glares from the guests after what his mother says. It might bother him more if this were a new thing. But it’s not. It’s not uncommon for his mother to talk about how terrible a son he is as if he isn’t sitting right there. And the following glares and silent alienation is something he’s well accustomed to.

By the time dessert is served, Nero feels properly hated by everyone else at the table. Not that it particularly matters, but no matter how much he tells himself he doesn’t care, it still hurts. It’s never nice to feel so unwanted in a space, even if he doesn’t care about the opinion of those who are making him feel that way.

It isn’t until after dessert and after the after dinner coffee and wine that the guests finally leave and Nero is forced to clean up after everyone. He does all of the dishes, cleans up the living room and the kitchen, and had put the leftovers away after dinner. By the time he’s finished all of this, his mother has raided the alcohol cabinet for her vodka, drinking half the bottle once the guests leave. Grant had disappeared the second dinner was finished and Nero is glad he hasn’t seen any sign of him since.

Before his mother can come up with a new job for him or decide he’s done something wrong, Nero escapes to his room. He’s sore and breathing hurts and he just wants to sleep. He can’t believe that only that morning he had been at his apartment, his true home, where he was safe and happy. So much had happened that day and almost none of it had been good. He takes a deep breath and immediately doubles over in pain. He should take more pain medication, but he doesn’t want to chance leaving his room even to go next door to the bathroom, so he tries to ignore the pain and lays down.

\--

The rest of Easter weekend is much the same. Nero spends a lot of it doing little chores for his mother. More often than not, he fucks up minorly and she slaps him. He’s got a couple bruises marring the skin of his cheek. His rib still kills, but it’s getting easier to ignore the pain when he breathes.

The actual evening of Easter, though, things take a turn for the worst. Nero is dragged along once again to mass that morning. It’s the biggest Christian holiday and the church is packed that morning. Grant’s hand lays heavy on his back between his shoulder blades through the service, making it impossible for Nero to escape into his head. He can’t stop thinking about the hand there and how much he wishes he could shrug it away. But he doesn’t want to start a scene so he doesn’t.

It takes ages for the service to end. The priest talks for what seems like hours and by the time he’s finished, everyone hangs around wishing each other happy Easter. Nero stands around and waits while his parents do their sociable thing. They don’t get home until mid afternoon. By this point, Nero is utterly exhausted and just wants to disappear into his room and wait out his last few hours trapped in the house before he can finally return to his apartment.

It’s not to be, though. Shortly after they make it back to the house, Nero is roped into cleaning the entire house _again_ while Grant makes the Easter ham and his mother drinks. It’s slow going to clean, with him trying to avoid hurting himself more than necessary.

He’s allowed to be finished when dinner is ready a few hours later, despite not being quite finished. He certainly doesn’t mind the break, despite it meaning he has to sit down to eat. He’s not particularly hungry, but he knows not eating what is being served is grounds for punishment, so he takes a little of everything and forces it down.

Grant drills him about school again. Less about actual school and more about the people he’s associating with. The man has this ownership complex over him and feels threatened by anyone new in his life, so Nero isn’t shocked by the questions, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. He doesn’t want to spill his whole life, the good part of it, to the bad part. But to avoid being yelled at, he answers each question shortly and without volunteering any additional information.

His phone buzzes in his pocket in the middle of a question and Grant catches the sound.

“Give it here.”

Nero blanches. His phone is very much a private thing for him. Something he has separate from his parents. He pays for it himself, isn’t connected to his parents’ plan, it’s _his_. And yet, when Grant holds out his hand expectantly, there’s not much choice for him. He pulls the device from his pocket and puts it into Grant’s hand a bit harder than is probably necessary.

Grant immediately looks at the screen. He isn’t able to get into the device, since Nero has a lock code on it, but he does see the message displaying on the lock screen. “Ah, a message from Dante. I thought you were just roommates.” His tone is accusatory, daring Nero to deny it.

“We are, roommates text each other.”

But he has no idea how damning the message is. Grant grins, lips wide in something that looks horrifically unnatural. “Oh? And do ‘just roommates’ text things like ‘I miss you, kid’ to each other?”

Shit.

Nero scrambles for an explanation. Anything to say to lead Grant away from his line of questioning. But he can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound incredibly flat and false. Nero knows that Dante is probably just being nice, just trying to touch base since Nero hasn’t been able to send him any messages over the weekend. But there’s no way he could possibly explain that to Grant.

A scraping sound breaks Nero’s line of thought and forces his attention to the source of the sound. His mother, who has been otherwise quiet throughout the meal, is now standing and she looks to be _fuming_. Nero does a bit of mental math and calculates just how much she’s had to drink. He can’t come up with a number, but he knows it’s a lot. Plenty to make her rage, especially considering she hasn’t been high in days. He can feel himself sinking into his chair, trying to shrink away from what he knows is coming.

She stalks around the table until she’s standing before him. Grant leans back as if he’s about to enjoy some great show and simply watches. Nero will have no help from him, not that he expected it. Small hands grip the front of Nero’s shirt and yank him off the chair. He doesn’t bother standing, just let her pull him to his knees.

“I didn’t raise a fucking _sissy_.”

Before he can stop himself, Nero’s mouth opens and words pour out. “You didn’t raise me at all.”

True as the statement may have been, it was a huge mistake for him to have said it. Especially considering her mood. The first blow is a slap. Pretty normal for her. But then her fist curls in anger and she starts raining closed fists down on his face and head. He feels his lip split and something wet runs down the back of his neck, indicating she’s probably broken skin on his scalp as well. She screams with the effort of beating him and before long, she starts kicking as well.

Without her holding him up, he sinks down to the floor. Instinctually, he curls in on himself, but it doesn’t stop her from hitting and kicking him. His world shrinks down into a tiny spot on the floor before it becomes darkness when he squeezes his eyes shut in some attempt to escape. It doesn’t really work, but he tries.

Finally, she tires. He can hear the way she’s panting with the effort of beating him. He knows she wants to make it hurt. Beat some ‘sense’ into him. Unfortunately for her, the only real effect it has is make him hate her more. Not exactly her intention, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Her blows lighten and eventually she backs off. Nero can hear her panting above him for several moments before her feet carry her back into her seat. Silence follows and the only sound is the sound of his mother’s fork against the plate as she continues her dinner. Then, she speaks as if nothing has happened, “Nero, finish your dinner.”

It takes a monumental effort to move even a little. He coughs and this time there is a bit of blood with it. He only hopes it’s from the split lip and not because his rib has punctured his lung. He knows he has a limited time before something bad will happen again if he doesn’t get up, but he’s in so much pain he’s not sure if he can get himself back into the chair, despite being right next to it. His body creaks as he rolls himself to his front so he can try to push himself up onto his knees. It takes him several tries, most of which end in him slamming back onto the linoleum beneath him, before he’s able to get up to his knees. Once there, he takes a few breaths and forces himself to climb back into his chair.

He’s sure he looks a mess. His face, his head, his stomach. He’s sure he’ll find a myriad of bruises all over himself in a few hours and he might end up with a nasty infection if he doesn’t get to clean himself up soon. But his mother told him to eat, so he stabs his fork into a piece of ham and he eats.

The rest of dinner is silent. His mother has a self satisfied grin on her face as she happily eats her food in what Nero’s sure she believes is a dainty fashion. His step dad has a smirk on his face, too, probably because he’s pleased Nero got punished for his associations that he doesn’t like. Nero couldn’t care less what the beating had been _for_. It doesn’t matter in the end. He just has to finish this meal, clean himself up, and make it to morning when he’ll be on a train back to his real home. The one place he feels safe.

Finally, everyone is finished and Nero is ordered to clear the table and do the dishes. After having sat for a while, all of his muscles scream at having to move again. But he makes it happen, if slowly. He gathers the plates, puts them in the sink. He wraps the leftovers up, puts them in the fridge. After he finishes doing all of the dishes, he wipes down the table and finally, _finally_ , he escapes to his room.

First, though, he stops in the bathroom. He takes one look in the mirror and nearly smashes it. He has to restrain himself from bringing up his fist and doing exactly that. He’s covered in evidence of his mother’s anger. His lip is swollen and there’s dried blood everywhere. He pulls out a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls and starts the painful, laborious process of cleaning up his wounds. Once finished with that, he turns on the shower and rinses out his hair.

After popping a few ibuprofen, he finally hobbles to his bed and lays down. He doesn’t even bother putting on pajamas, not willing to go through the effort and pain such actions would cause. Instead, he just lays in the most comfortable position he can and hopes sleep takes him quickly.


	7. Cherish the Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things happen! Yay!  
> Next chapter _should_ be the last one.  
> Enjoy!

The second Nero’s step dad’s car is out of sight, he pulls up his hood and tries to hide his face with it. When he woke that morning, his face looked like he had been through a meat grinder and then some. It’s purple in several places, with large welts. His hair might have a permanent stain of copper tinge to it from the blood that took ages to stop seeping from his head wounds. The rest of his injuries are hidden beneath clothes so he only has to worry about those if he moves wrong.

Once his train arrives, he quickly claims a seat and puts his bag next to him to discourage anyone sitting next to him. Then he slumps over and tries to sleep.

He doesn’t manage it. His muscles ache to much and he can’t get comfortable with his cracked rib causing him to struggle to pull in air. The train ride is long and painful, but eventually it pulls into his station and Nero gets off. He knows Dante will be waiting for him in the station and the thought of it makes him hold off before climbing the stairs to the main station. He doesn’t want Dante to see him like this. Not that it can be helped, but it can at least be delayed.

Nero adjusts his hood, forcing it even further onto his face, and heads up the stairs.

Dante is there, just as expected. He’s smiling and clearly happy to see Nero, despite his standoffish appearance. When Nero makes it up to him, the bigger man holds his arms out for a hug and Nero sidesteps the gesture. “Can we just go?”

Dante raises his eyebrows but shrugs, “Sure, kid. You alright?”

They walk out together and Nero curls on himself even more to try to hide his face, “I’m fine.” He knows he’s being curt and probably bordering on rude, especially considering Dante didn’t have to drive out to the station to pick him up. But he just can’t care. Hiding his shame is more important in that moment.

Even in the car, he hides. He turns his body toward the window and checks to make sure his hood is hiding him every two minutes. Dante doesn’t speak to him, so Nero just assumes that his standoffishness is working. That Dante can’t be bothered to try to converse with him when he so clearly wants to be left alone. Good.

Once they reach the apartment, Nero bolts to his room, locking himself inside where he can hide away and not have to show his shame off to Dante. He doesn’t want the man to show him pity or laugh at his stupidity and how incapable he is against his mother. He just wants to hide and suffer alone.

And that works. Sort of. For a little while. Dante tries a couple times to invite Nero to have lunch or dinner with him, to watch something together, to play some video game. Takes him four tries before he gives up altogether because Nero just keeps saying no. Nero can’t help but feel kind of bad about it all. He doesn’t want to push Dante away, but he also absolutely doesn’t want him to bare witness to his weakness.

That night, late, Nero makes a break for the bathroom to clean up his cuts. It’s the only time he takes off his shirt, to see the damage left beneath.

His entire torso is a sick purplish blue. Right over his cracked rib is the worst of it, a dark mottled patch of skin that looks nearly black. He touches it, against his better judgement and immediately regrets it. He hisses in pain, immediately pulling back. That brings on a whole host of new pain that shoots through his body and makes him cry out slightly. He tries to stifle the sound, biting down on his fist, but he’s not so sure it works.

Finally, he starts running the sink and splashing water on his face, trying to clean out the cuts. He pulls the peroxide down from the medicine cabinet and gets to work on the worst of his cuts. He’s almost finished when the door suddenly flies open.

And there Dante is, in all his shirtless glory, looking ready to hop in the shower. “Oh, sorry, kid, didn’t-” He cuts off at he takes in Nero standing there, all of his wounds on display. He drops the towel he’d been holding and his mouth falls open. Nero doesn’t even turn around, afraid to see the expression without the buffer of the mirror between them.

Dante steps forward and holds out a hand, then draws it back, looking almost scared to touch him. Nero doesn’t even know what to do. He just stands there, frozen in terror of what Dante will think of him. Nothing prepares him for the next words out of Dante’s mouth.

“Who hurt you, baby boy?”

Nero’s eyes widen impossibly. He can’t speak for fear of shattering the moment, this dream. Because that’s what it must be. Because Dante would _never_ speak to him like that. Not for real, not outside Nero’s deepest fantasies. Not to mention there’s not a drop of pity or derisiveness, only intense concern reflected in the eyes looking at him through the mirror.

After what seems like ages, Dante takes another step and this time, big, warm hands settle on Nero’s shoulders and they feel so _good_ and so _natural_ there. He can’t help but close his eyes and just focus on that feeling, letting the pain melt out of his conscious thought. But then he opens his eyes and he has to wake up. “This isn’t real.”

Dante’s eyebrow raises, “It looks pretty fucking real to me, kid. What the Hell happened?”

Nero looks away from the eyes staring at him through the mirror, “Nothing, it’s fine.”

He’s suddenly whirled around and he has to hiss in pain as his rib is jostled painfully. A hand pets the side of his face in what he guesses must be apology before he finally looks up at Dante, into his eyes. There are so many unfamiliar emotions swirling there that Nero has never seen and doesn’t know how to interpret.

“Nero, this,” he motions to Nero’s… everything, “is anything but _fine_. You’re hurt. Badly.”

Nero looks down again, trying to find something interesting in his feet because that’s so much easier than looking into the eyes in front of him and seeing things he’d only seen in his dreams. Seeing things he knows can’t be real and won’t last. It hurts him far worse than any of his wounds. “I’ve been worse, it doesn’t matter.”

His chin is lifted and he makes the mistake of flicking his eyes up. He finds those same emotions swimming in blue eyes he’s still never really gotten right on a page, though he came close in the one drawing. Those eyes are so captivating, Nero can’t look away again, despite how much it hurts. After a long moment, Dante speaks again, “It _does_ matter. You matter. You matter far more than you seem to know…” His voice trails off strangely, as if he wants to say something more but decides against it.

The words are… such a foreign concept to Nero. He’s never mattered in his life, so why should he now?

Dante heaves an exasperated sigh when Nero doesn’t say anything in response to him. His hands fall away from where they had been resting and his eyes look to the side. He mutters something and Nero thinks he hears the word ‘kiss’ but it’s too quiet for him to be sure and he’s probably hallucinating all of this anyway. So he ignores it. Eventually, Dante turns back toward him, “Let me help.”

Nero doesn’t have any good reason why he should deny the offer, so he doesn’t. He nods and lets Dante take the cotton swabs and peroxide and sits down on the toilet while Dante works to clean the rest of his wounds. His touch is shockingly gentle. Nero hardly has to try to hide winces because it almost doesn’t hurt.

When he finishes with the peroxide, Dante steps back. “Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot we can do about the rest of it. We’ve got some pain meds, though. Take them.” He pauses and then, “Can you even sleep like that?”

Nero lets out a huff of humourless laughter, “Not really, no.”

“I’ve got something for that, too.” Dante digs through the medicine cabinet and pulls out a couple bottles and fills a cup with some water. “Bottoms up.”

He takes the medication offered to him, not even caring what it is. He kind of understands that it’s probably just some ibuprofen and some kind of sleep aid. Doesn’t really matter, he hopes it’ll work. After downing the pills, Dante helps him stand, which he really appreciates because it makes moving just a little easier. The bigger man continues to help him, supporting him all the way back to his bed, where Dante helps him lay down and pulls the covers over him. A hand lingers on the side of his face for a moment. “Good night, Nero.”

Nero already feels the sleeping pills starting to take effect. His brain feels fuzzy and his mouth feels full of cotton. He can’t make his lips move to properly form a response. He hears Dante whisper something else, but it sounds like another language so his brain doesn’t even try to process it.

\--

By the time Nero wakes, he’s missed two classes, feels sore everywhere again, and is convinced the moment in the bathroom the previous night had been some elaborate dream his brain had come up with to make him feel better.

He decides that the day is a wash, after missing his only two classes, he figures he might as well not bother going into the studio either, favouring staying in and trying not to be in too much pain. Maybe he can find more of those sleeping drugs and just sleep the rest of the day. Maybe he’ll have another dream in which Dante says and does all the things Nero wishes he would.

Before long, it becomes too uncomfortable to keep laying in bed, so Nero ventures out to the bathroom in search of more medication. Unfortunately, Dante appears to be up and about as well, making it much harder to hide from him.

“Nero?”

Should have guessed the man would hear him moving around. “Yeah.” He doesn’t emerge, still thinking Dante doesn’t need to see the mess he is.

The man in question suddenly appears behind him. “Did you get some sleep?”

His cavalier attitude and the way he seems to know makes Nero reevaluate the consideration that the bathroom had been a dream and might actually have happened. Dante actually helped clean him up, gave him pills, and put him to bed. But there’s no way the words they exchanged were real. No way Dante would have said those things.

“Um, yeah. Missed my classes.”

“Good, you might want to take the week off. You look like you were trampled.” Dante appears at the door to the bathroom. “The good stuff is on the top shelf.” Nero moves aside some bottles where Dante indicated and finds the pain medication. Once he dumps a couple into his hand and throws them into his throat, Dante speaks again. “You gonna tell me what happened yet?”

“I… fell.” He hesitates on the lie. Not because he is unsure about it. It’s a lie he’s told many times and it’s worked before. But because he knows Dante won’t believe it and a part of him wants to open up and tell him the truth.

And he’s right. “What, from a ten story building? Bullshit.” Dante sighs, “But fine, keep your secrets. Just don’t lie to me, ok?”

Nero hangs his head, “Sorry, habit.” And that is probably giving away more than he wants to give away, but he doesn’t even care. He’s probably already figured out at least some of what happened. After all, Nero left perfectly fine and came back from his house looking like he was run over. There are only so many places he could have acquired his injuries.

Dante looks at him with this odd expression that looks almost helpless. It looks so wrong on his face because as long as Nero has known him, Dante has never once been _helpless_. “Do you need anything, kid?”

Never one for charity, Nero’s automatic response is, “No.” He turns to leave the bathroom, now that he’s taken the meds that will hopefully dull the pain coursing through his abdomen. It only takes a couple steps until he realise he’s being blocked in the bathroom by Dante’s hulking frame.

Before he can ask to get by, Dante reaches out to him and puts a hand on his face. He’s too shocked to move or say anything, he only widens his eyes and freezes. Part of him wants to yank away and yell at Dante for playing with him like this. For doing these things that make it look like he cares when he knows it can’t be real. But most of him just wants to melt into it because it feels so good. “Oh, baby boy…”

What?

“It wasn’t a dream?”

Dante gives him the most confused look and it’s actually quite adorable. “Dream? Do you usually dream about getting beat to shit and having me walk in on you?”

“Not exactly…” Nero doesn’t realise the implication of his words until after they’re out of his mouth. He wants to die and take back the words, take back the implied admission with them.

But Dante has already heard and a smirk is already spreading across his face, “But you _do_ dream about me.” It isn’t a question, just a statement of fact. And Nero can’t even deny it.

For the first time, Nero is glad for the discolouration of his face because it probably does a decent job of hiding the blush that blooms there. Especially with his hand still resting on the side of his face. Though, that probably means he can feel the heat almost as well as Nero himself.

Nero can’t move. He can’t speak. He can barely even breathe. Dante is there and now there’s this awkwardness from his admission that Nero can’t shake and there’s a hand on his cheek and he hurts all over but he almost doesn’t notice because _Dante_. And he’s staring at his lips because he can’t stare at his eyes anymore and they look so damn inviting.

“If you weren’t hurt, I’d kiss you right now.”

Now he has to be dreaming. Or maybe he’s dead. Maybe his mother finally went too far and this is some warped torture in Hell in which he gets everything he’s ever wanted only for Dante to turn on him and laugh at his pain.

But it’s not a dream. He’s not dead. Somehow this is happening. Dante is actually touching him and showing him real affection, telling him he wants to _kiss_ him. It’s every dream he’s ever had about the man coming true and Nero is just _standing_ there completely dumbfounded and without a clue of what to do.

“Did I break you?” Dante’s voice echoes through Nero’s skull and vaguely lifts the fog on his mind. But only just.

“I… You…” Nero’s mouth forms words but can’t string together a sentence. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment in an effort to clear his head then tries again. “Are you fucking with me?”

Dante’s grin disappears and is replaced with a frown, “What? Of course not.” His hand falls away from Nero’s face finally and he looks almost sheepish. “I’m sorry, Nero, I didn’t mean-”

“This can’t be real. You… you can’t be real.” Nero shakes his head. “This has to be a dream.”

“Oh, fuck it.” Nero doesn’t know what Dante means and before he can even begin to ponder on it, there is a delightful pressure against his lips. It’s gentle but insistent. There are fingers gently raking through his hair and holding his head in place and it makes him shiver desperately. He can’t do anything but push back, begging for more despite the sting of his split lip. But he doesn’t care. Dante is kissing him and it’s everything he’s ever wanted and better than he could have ever imagined.

After what seems like an age and simultaneously less than a second, Dante pulls away. Without realising, Nero chases after him slightly, pulled toward him gravitationally. This apparently amuses Dante as he gets this little smile with the corner of his eyes crinkling up and Nero can’t look away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It takes a second for Nero to realise what he means. But then his brain finally remembers that yeah, he’s got a split in his lip that’s still pretty bad. In fact he’s pretty sure that little kiss, gentle as it was, reopened it because now he can feel a bit of oozing and Dante’s finger reaches up to wipe something away from just under his lip. “I don’t care.”

This time Dante laughs, “Well I do, sit down, let me clean this up before it gets infected.”

Nero does as he’s told, despite wanting to go back to experiencing that intoxicating kiss. Dante gets some cotton balls and peroxide and gently dabs at the cut on Nero’s lip, carefully cleaning it. When he declares himself finished, he leans down to plant a sweet kiss onto Nero’s forehead, one of the few areas not covered in bruises and marks. It makes Nero melt, closing his eyes and grinning like a child.

“You should rest, kid. You’ll heal faster that way.” Leave it to Dante to kill a mood. Something resembling normalcy creeps back into the bathroom and it leaves Nero almost cold.

Nero sticks his tongue out, “I slept all day already, I don’t want to just lay around all day.”

Dante laughs at him again, offering a hand to help him up, “Well, it’s not like you’ll be doing cartwheels. Wanna play a game or something?” It’s the first time Nero thinks he’s ever been around anyone that didn’t immediately shoot down what he wanted. Even if it was in an effort to do what’s best for him, even Kyrie would prioritise what she thought was the right course of action over his own wishes. Dante just… took it in stride and changed his approach, offering something that would allow Nero to not feel like he’s just wasting away.

“Can we find some trash crime drama instead? Law and Order is always having a marathon, right?” They walk to the living room together and Dante stands by while Nero lowers himself into the couch before taking his own seat next to him.

He smiles and doesn’t even answer before he’s flipping through channels to find just that. Once they settle on a channel, Dante slips an arm casually around Nero’s shoulders and Nero leans against him. He’s solid and warm and he still can’t quite believe this is real. He snuggles in a little deeper, trying to get comfortable so it doesn’t hurt when he breathes so much. Then he looks up, “You sure this is real? I’m not dreaming?”

Dante looks down at him with this sparkle in his eye, “Want me to pinch ya?”

In a moment of bravery that is probably due to the drugs he took kicking in, Nero replies brazenly, “I’d rather you kiss me again.” His cheeks go red after the words are out of his mouth but he defiantly holds eye contact, standing by his statement.

Dante’s arm squeezes around him just slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, and he leans down, planting a kiss on his forehead again. It’s not what he meant and judging by the way Dante smirks at him after, he knows it. Nero pouts and only a few moments later, his tactics work because Dante leans down against him again, this time laying his lips over Nero’s. It’s just as good, if not better, than the first time. He melts, completely and utterly relaxed in the arms of the man holding him. The kiss is gentle again, and over far too soon, but it sates Nero enough for the time being. It calms his nerves and reassures him that it wasn’t just a one time accident. He breaks eye contact first, looking back to the TV with a little grin of happiness on his face.

When he checks his phone later, he has two messages. One from Trish and one from Lady and both of them say pretty much the same thing. **Finally!**

\--

Nero never thought it would be this _easy_. He had spent so much time and energy trying to pretend that he wasn’t falling for his roommate that now that they’re… Together? Now, he’s not even sure why he had bothered with the months of pain and suffering when it’s so much easier to just be true.

Although, that comes with its own problems for Nero. He’s never been in a real relationship before and he’s not actually even sure that’s what _this_ is. Yeah, they kiss a lot and Dante puts his arm around him when they sit together on the couch. But, otherwise, nothing has really changed between them. They still eat too much pizza and watch stupid TV marathons or play video games. They go about their days normally and just exist. But it’s easy and Nero doesn’t really want to potentially ruin things by trying to bring it up. He’d much rather just exist as they are and enjoy what he has.

He knows Dante cares about him, he doesn’t have to question that anymore. After how he’s been caring for him since he came back from Easter, it’s been abundantly clear. Nero has always kind of… suffered in silence after a run in with his mom. Only the really bad times has he ever sought help and usually just from Kyrie who probably actually believed the lie he told her about how he got hurt.

But Dante is always there. Not oppressively, and he’ll back off if Nero tells him to, but he doesn’t. He’s just present and always aware of what Nero needs. He doesn’t even have to ask before Dante will be doing something for him, getting him a drink or grabbing him a blanket. Simple things, but anything Nero ever needed, Dante was there.

Still, Nero has his insecurities. With them kind of just… existing, he doesn’t know what that means for them. Especially when it comes to Dante going out. He doesn’t go out alone all that often anymore, but when he does, Nero always has to wonder if whatever they have is enough to keep Dante picking up any random person.

So when Dante invites him out one night, Nero gets a little defensive.

“Why would you want me to come? Wouldn’t I ruin your game or whatever?” He’s curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with a book against his knees. He’s feeling much better by this time, his face is back to normal and his rib almost doesn’t hurt anymore, only when he twists his body strangely does it twinge.

“What? Why wouldn’t I want you to come?” Dante honestly looks confused and if Nero wasn’t in a _mood_ , he’d feel bad for his accusatory questions.

“People go out alone to bring someone home with them. You’ve got a reputation, Dante.”

All at once, Dante deflates. He makes his way to the front of the couch and sits down. He leaves some space between them which makes Nero feels like there’s a chasm there. Dante looks at him sadly, “I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression, Nero.” Oh. He’s using his name. This is serious. “I thought I’d made it pretty clear that you’re the one I want. I don’t go out to find someone else, I go to have a good time and I wanted to see if you wanted to join me. But I don’t have to go if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Oh great, now Nero really does feel bad. He knew Dante cared about him, but his own insecurities stopped him from seeing just how much. “No, you don’t have to not go, I didn’t mean…” He struggles to come up with the right words. “I’m sorry.”

He sets his book down on the coffee table and picks at the hem of his blanket. “So... “ He draws out the ‘o’ for a while, partially trying to lighten the mood that just fell over them and also trying to bolster his courage for his next question. “Does that make us… boyfriends?”

The face Dante makes almost makes Nero laugh. He looks so shocked and almost offended by the question in such an over the top, comical way. “I thought that was obvious?”

Nero tries to suppress a giggle, “Not to me.”

Apparently his laughter is infectious because it isn’t long before a smile breaks across Dante’s face and he scoots closer, holding his arms out, “C’mere.”

Nero does as told, moving his legs and leaning forward so Dante can take him in his arms. They crash together in an unsuspectingly deep kiss. Nero lets himself be drawn in by the magnetism of his _boyfriend_. His hands settle on the sides of Dante’s neck and he can feel Dante’s hands running comfortingly over his back and holding him close.

The kiss goes on for some time, changing and making Nero feel high from the exhilaration of it. He loses himself and a sense of time and by the time they part, it feels like an age has passed them by while they were wrapped up in one another. And Nero wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dante moves him gently until he’s settled against his chest and laying against him. Then he leans over to get Nero’s book and gives it back to him so he can continue reading while Dante does something on his phone. It’s a quiet evening of mutual silence which Nero has always appreciated about their relationship, but even more so now that he gets to use Dante as a pillow.

It’s well into the night before a thought strikes Nero. “I thought you were going out?”

Dante’s nose nuzzles against Nero’s neck, tickling him slightly but also sending a shock of electricity through him. “Don’t feel like it.”

Nero puts a finger in his book to hold his place and turns around so he can look at Dante, “You felt like it a few hours ago, what changed?”

He gets a shrug from the man who is still focused on his phone, “Rather stay here.”

Nero stays like that for a minute, not sure how to respond but not feeling like the conversation is really over. But it’s clear that Dante has no interest in continuing speaking on the topic, so eventually he turns back around and opens his book back up. But he doesn’t start reading immediately. Instead, he smiles to himself, feeling warm that Dante decided staying in with him was a better way to spend his evening than out at some bar.

Over the next couple hours, Nero feels a full range of emotions from the story he’s reading. It’s quite a gripping fantasy story with just the right amount of romance and plenty of action. The author weaves the tale with an expert handle on the use of their words and brings up important topics in an allegory such that they’re almost not even noticeable as a comment on the human condition. Not to mention Nero has become incredibly attached to the characters and any time something happens to one he feels deeply for them.

Eventually, reading exhausts him and he marks his place before pulling his blanket closer and snuggling further into Dante. The older man’s response is to simply sling one arm more securely around him and kiss the top of his head before returning to whatever it is he’s doing on his phone. It doesn’t take Nero long before he feels himself slipping into a comfortable doze.

He’s woken up by the feeling of weightlessness. He cracks an eye open and finds he’s being carried by Dante. To avoid being put down, he feigns continued sleep, enjoying the way it feels to be held like this. It doesn’t last long though, because Dante brings them to Nero’s room where he starts lowering him down into his bed. He clings, not wanting to leave the strong arms holding him.

“It’s late, kiddo,” Dante whispers when he realises Nero is awake and not willing to let go.

Nero clings even harder, “Don’t go.” His voice is heavy with sleep, but he means what he says. He doesn’t want Dante to leave.

For a moment, Dante tenses against him, but then he relaxes, “You sure?”

He nods against Dante’s chest, where he’s still clinging, “It’s a big bed.” He snuggles in hard against him once more and Dante laughs.

“Alright, alright, let me just go change, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

Finally, Nero releases himself, allowing Dante to lay him down in the bed where he climbs under the covers and gets comfortable. The elder man disappears through the doorway and the room feels cold and empty while he’s gone. So much so that it sends an actual shiver down Nero’s spine and he pulls the blanket over him more. But it doesn’t take long before Dante is back, wearing a pair of sweatpants clinging dangerously low on his hips and no shirt. Nero ogles. He doesn’t bother hiding the way he stares at him as he walks toward the bed and climbs in.

Immediately, Nero clings to him again. He’s warm and Nero’s hands feel cold against him. The apparently are cold by the way Dante hisses at the contact. But he doesn’t push him away, instead wrapping his arms around Nero and pulling him close, throwing a leg over his. Dante kisses his forehead, then his cheek, and finally their lips meet. It’s lazy and slow, with no expectations. It doesn’t gain force or change quality. They only seem to break apart for Dante to look at Nero and smile at him. Nero takes the opportunity to curl up again and promptly falls asleep.


	8. Stare Into the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER ENJOY

With the school year coming to a close, Nero gets really busy again. Final projects and portfolios that he’s procrastinated on are starting to weigh heavy on him and he rushes to try to finish everything. He feels bad, because he has to spend a lot of his time in the studios and not nearly enough time at home with Dante. He apologises every night when he comes home after 8 with an arm full of art supplies and clay or paint all over his hands. But Dante never seems to mind too much, he just waves him in and gives him a kiss and everything is fine.

It’s become habit for them to share a bed at night. Usually, it ends up being Nero’s bed, probably just because it’s convenient because he has to spend so much time in his room working even after a full day in the studio.

But sometimes Nero gets the distinct pleasure of spending a night in Dante’s bed, where the sheets and the blankets and the pillows all smell thoroughly of him. And it’s a nice window into his untold life. The room is somewhat dark, walls plastered with several posters from classic rock bands. There’s little to connect back to his family, which Nero expects. But there is a picture of him and his twin brother at their graduation. Dante looks happy with an arm slung around his brother, while the other looks nothing short of perturbed. Resting bitch face is the biggest understatement of the universe. There’s also a picture of a woman in a frame displayed prominently. Nero is pretty sure that’s Dante’s mom, but he doesn’t ask, not wanting to bring it up again.

Despite all of this, Nero has avoided initiating anything heavier than heavy petting. And Dante seems to accept this, like he’s waiting for Nero to make the first move and indicate it’s ok to go further than some mostly innocent groping. But he’s scared. There are so many things that go through his head when he thinks of things going further. Most of them revolve around inadequacy, especially for someone as experienced as Dante. But he also has darker fears of flashbacks and how dirty and tainted he is. He doesn’t want anything like that to happen with Dante, he trusts Dante and maybe even loves him, the last thing he wants is to somehow end up associating him with Grant.

He’s mulling over this very thing while watching a show with Dante when his phone rings. He checks the screen and his heart drops immediately when he sees where the call is coming from. Still, he answers, knowing the consequences of not doing so could be much worse.

“Hello,” he answers curtly, hoping to keep the conversation short. Dante mutes the TV out of courtesy.

“My darling boy, I hope everything is going well.” Lies. “When do you finish your finals?”

Nero sighs and by the way Dante’s hand is slowly stroking up and down his arm, he knows Nero is uncomfortable. “Two weeks.”

He can hear the way Grant smiles as he hums. “I was thinking you could visit for a week or so after your finals finish.”

“I already told you, I have to work.”

Grant huffs in annoyance and Nero shrinks despite being miles away from the man, “I can talk to them for you, get you the time off.”

Nero doesn’t know how to respond to this. On one hand, he does not want to give the information about where he works to his step dad. Nor does he want to lose the excuse not to go back to that Hell house. But the consequences he could face for not complying are steep and he doesn’t want to risk them.

Before he can come up with an answer, the phone is pulled out of his hand. Dante speaks into the receiver. “Sorry, Nero got called away.” There’s a pause as Grant replies, no doubt annoyed at the sudden change of speaker. “This is Dante, his roommate.” Thank you, Dante, for not revealing the true nature of the relationship. “I don’t give a damn who you are, he doesn’t want to go back to that house and you can’t make him. Stop calling him or he will block your number.”

Dante hits the end call button without waiting for a response and hands Nero’s phone back. Except Nero is frozen in complete shock with his mouth hanging open, unable to move even enough to take the offered device. After a long moment of Dante holding the phone out and Nero just staring at him, wide eyed, Dante finally says something, “You gonna take this back or should I hold onto it?”

Nero flaps his mouth for a moment before he can manage to push out some sounds, “You- he- you- y-”

“I’m not letting you go back there, Nero. Not after what happened last time.”

“But I-” Nero can’t find the words. He never told Dante how he accumulated his injuries. Not the truth, anyway. Much less any of the darker things that went on in that house.

Dante pulls him close, “I saw how you came back from there, Nero. And I watched how you looked every time you left and every time you came back. I know you hate it, even if I don’t know the details. I can’t sit here and watch it keep happening, not when I have some kind of power to stop it. So I told the asshole off.” After a bit of a pause, he continues quietly, “I hope I didn’t step on any toes, I don’t want to make things worse.”

Nero doesn’t know what to say. He is concerned about any potential consequences of what just happened, about making things worse. But he also feels _safe_ with Dante looking out for him like that. He almost doesn’t care that Grant might do something drastic, because the more he thinks about it, the more he realises the man has no actual power over him. And with Dante here, standing by him, he feels like it might actually be ok.

“Thank you.”

Dante doesn’t respond. Instead, he sets Nero’s phone, which he had still been holding, on the coffee table and pulls Nero in for a little kiss. “I’m here for you, baby boy. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

And Nero believes him.

\--

The air feels suddenly lighter after Nero hands in his final portfolio at the end of the year. It’s a lovely day out and the sky is clear and all of his projects are done. He has a couple days off from work, somehow, and now he’s free. No obligations and freedom to choose what he wants to do. Which, frankly, is go home and cuddle up with his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, that is the one thing that will have to wait. While finals for Nero are officially over, Dante still has a couple more all crammed into that day one after the other. He won’t be back at the apartment until he’s finished much later that evening. Which means Nero doesn’t have any reason to hurry home. So he takes his time, meandering slowly down the street toward the apartment he shares with Dante.

The apartment is naturally empty when he arrives. And not only is it empty, but it feels cold. Like a crypt of the undead. It’s not actually cold. In fact, it’s quite warm even with the air running to combat the warm day. Still, he doesn’t like to be in the apartment alone much. He busies himself by putting together something to eat and preparing things for dinner for when Dante would come home. He doesn’t really consider himself a homemaker, but he knows Dante sure as Hell won’t ever make dinner and he doesn’t feel like having pizza tonight.

By the time he’s nearly finished, Dante has arrived home. Nero smiles when he hears the door open and Dante throw his bag down. And he grins even wider when the man comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him. “Welcome back, how did your finals go?”

“Eh,” Dante grunts, with his face buried in Nero’s hair, “Fine, don’t think I failed at least.” Dante inhales deeply, then breathes out, tickling the fine hairs on the back of Nero’s neck.

“Dinner should be ready soon if you can stand to let me finish cooking.”

Dante’s arms tighten as he makes a groaning sound, but after a few moments, he releases Nero. “Smells good, almost as good as you.” Nero swats him with the back of his hand and chases him out of the kitchen so he can finish putting together dinner. Dante relents and goes to do… whatever it is he does.

It takes only a few more minutes before he’s done with dinner. He makes up two plates and brings them to the coffee table where Dante has set himself up with a magazine. He quickly does away with his reading when food is placed in front of him though. “Mmm, this is great!” he tells Nero after taking a bite. There is little conversation after that, the sounds of eating the only thing between them as they both dig in.

After they’re finished, Dante leans back and rubs his stomach, looking like he’s quite satisfied. It makes Nero grin to know that he managed to make Dante happy even if it was just with a simple meal. He picks up both of their plates and puts them in the sink after rinsing them to be dealt with another time. By the time he’s back on the couch, Dante is back into his magazine, but moves easily when Nero snuggles up against him to accommodate him.

For a while, Nero plays around on his phone, enjoying the mutual silence and comfort of just being with Dante. But it doesn’t take long before that doesn’t seem to stimulate him anymore. He pockets his phone and looks around the room, looking for something to do. When that doesn’t work, he turns a little in Dante’s hold and puts a hand on his chest. “Hey.”

Dante’s eyes shift from his magazine to Nero only for a moment. “Hey.”

That’s definitely not enough. He puts on his best puppy dog eyes and pulls out his best whiney voice, “Pay attention to meeee.”

Finally, Dante actually looks at him. He makes a face that Nero isn’t exactly sure what it means, it looks almost pained but not quite. The magazine finally disappears and Dante puts his hands on either side of Nero’s face, “Damn, kid, you’ll be the death of me.”

Nero cocks his head with a look of pure innocence, “What do you mean?”

One of Dante’s hands runs through Nero’s hair and makes him hum, almost a purr, in pleasure at the innocent gesture. “You have no idea the things you do to me.” The comment is low and almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard, or maybe wasn’t meant to be said. But Nero latches onto it.

He presses in closer to Dante’s chest, turning more completely so he’s facing him entirely, “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

Dante draws in a sharp breath and shifts a bit. The hand on the side of Nero’s face moves down to his neck where his fingers play in the small hairs at the back of his neck. “Nero…”

Nero makes another happy hum. “Dante,” he answers, cheekily. He puts both his hands on Dante’s chest and leans back, rearranging his legs so that he’s straddling the man before moving his hands lower and bringing them back up under the hem of his shirt. At the same time, he leans in for a kiss.

Dante’s mouth accepts him easily, devouring him. Hands rest loosely on his hips while his own hands explore Dante’s front, pushing his shirt up and out of the way. Eventually, they part enough that Nero can push the offending cloth up and over Dante’s head. This is hardly new territory for the couple, considering Dante’s fondness of being without a shirt, but Nero doesn’t want it to stop here. He wants to explore, and he wants more. He wants Dante’s hands all over him, he wants to feel good.

They come together in another kiss while Nero runs his hands over the surface of Dante’s chest and abs, feeling the contours, the hills and valleys. He still can’t believe that he gets to do this, that this man is his. And perhaps an even more unbelievable thing, he _trusts_ Dante. Deep down to his soul, unlike he’s really ever trusted anyone else in his life. Which is why he feels fairly confident when he cants his hips forward and grinds lightly against Dante, showing him what he wants. What _he_ does to _him_.

Dante’s eyes widen slightly. He looks like he’s going to say something, but thinks better of it. It seems like he’s perfectly happy letting Nero lead the pace of whatever this is. To let it be whatever Nero wants it to be. Which Nero appreciates immensely, but there’s also a small bit of him that fears it’s because Dante doesn’t want him, that he’s going to push him away the second it goes just a little too far.

In an effort to find out and also try to give himself more appeal, he starts kissing his way up Dante’s neck, over his jaw and up to his ear where he whispers, “Do you want me?”

His response is an emphatic moan followed by a hoarse, “Yes.” The affirmation calms Nero’s nerves somewhat and emboldens him to let his hands trail lower, following the V of Dante’s hips down to the hem of his pants.

Dante is breathing hard, obviously aroused, even if Nero couldn’t see the evidence, plain as day, making his jeans tighter. It makes Nero swell with pride. _I did this_.

So when hands grab his wrists and stop him from going further, he’s shocked and more than a little hurt. He looks up with a look he hopes is just questioning but he’s sure the hurt is written all over his face as well. “Nero, wait,” Dante starts. His hands move to take Nero’s in his, rubbing his thumb over them in a comforting way. “We should probably talk about this first.”

Nero deflates. He practically falls against Dante’s chest where he is immediately embraced and held close. Dante is always there to catch him. He turns his head so he’s not talking directly into Dante’s chest, “Why?”

Hands run up and down his back and it helps to relax him despite his childish petulance. “Because as far as I know, you’re a virgin and we’ve never talked about what’s ok and what’s not.”

He wants to argue, wants to just charge ahead and not talk and just feel. But he _knows_ that’s a bad idea, especially with his past. He could easily fall into a flashback if something goes wrong and Dante wouldn’t have a clue and that isn’t fair to him.

After a long moment of silence, Nero replies in a low voice just above a whisper, “I’m not a virgin. Technically.”

For a fraction of a second, Dante seems to brighten, but then he seems to reflect on what exactly Nero had said and the potential implications of it. “What do you mean, technically?”

Nero sighs before pushing himself off Dante and pulling away. He ends up on the other end of the couch in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. “I haven’t been a virgin since I was eight.”

He can feel the way the sentence knocks the air from Dante’s lungs. He can feel the tension between them, so thick he could cut it. Finally, Dante moves. He comes over closer to Nero, sitting right next to him and putting a tentative arm around his shoulders before pulling him in. “Oh, baby boy.”

The term of endearment makes Nero feel safe. It’s Dante’s and Dante’s alone and it keeps him present, keeps him from reliving all the times in his room with Grant late at night. He lets Dante hold him, but he keeps his knees hugged to his chest. “It’s fine, it was probably my fault anyway.”

The most gentle fingers lift his chin so he’s forced to look into the icy blue of Dante’s eyes. “Nero, it was never your fault. You were a _kid_. A _child_.” Dante pulls him forward and kisses his forehead, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

At that, Nero pulls away and fixes Dante with a determined look, “But I _do_ want to. With you.”

Dante smiles, and from anyone else, Nero would think it was pity or something. But from Dante, it looks caring and just a little sad. Nero doesn’t know exactly how to feel about the expression. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make anything worse or bring anything back. I want you to be safe.”

Nero’s chest feels warm at that. Dante cares so much about him, it’s obvious in everything he does. “I’m safe with you. I trust you.” And he means it. He trusts Dante. “I’m sure.”

Dante wraps arms around him once more, “If _anything_ doesn’t feel right or makes you uncomfortable, promise you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.” Nero can feel himself relaxing again. He’s not hugging his knees to his chest anymore and is melting into Dante’s embrace. He can feel hands exploring gently, not pushing any boundaries but moving with a purpose over his back, up his neck, down his spine. He mourns that he’s still wearing his shirt, wanting to feel those fingers exploring his skin rather than the fabric covering it.

His breath catches when eventually, Dante’s fingers tease the sliver of skin he’s revealed by pulling up slightly on Nero’s shirt. The touch is electrifying, sending shocks through his body despite the mostly innocent nature of the contact. He makes a quiet hum at the contact and Dante clearly takes this as the good sign it is because his fingers find their way under his shirt and start his exploration against his skin.

The contact between them isn’t inherently sexual in any real way, it’s just skin against skin, Dante exploring Nero’s back. But something about it has Nero breathing a bit heavier and he gets an overwhelming urge to need to kiss Dante. So he does. He pulls back just slightly from where he’s laying against the man’s chest and tilts his head upwards until he can capture Dante’s lips with his own.

Nero finds himself getting lost in the kiss. He feels warm and happy. Safe. It’s a feeling he’s not really used to, but something he treasures. He dives in closer, if that’s even possible, and Dante’s hands move further up his back, pushing his shirt along with it, and moving to push at his arms. Nero lifts his arms easily, but finds it much harder to part his lips from Dante’s to allow the elder man to remove his shirt. Still, he manages to rip himself away from the delicious kiss and allows the shirt to be pulled over his head and tossed away.

At first, the room feels cold without his shirt. But before he can really feel the chill, Dante pulls him back against his chest and the warmth of the skin against skin. He expected Dante’s chest to feel hard and almost cold, even though he knows how silly that is. But he’s pleasantly surprised by how soft his skin feel against his own. Solid, because there are impressive muscles just below the surface of skin, but still soft. Nero can’t keep his hands from running over his boyfriend’s abs.

It’s about this point when Nero realises that this is really happening. This is what he wants, of course, but it’s really only just now hitting him that this is _really_ happening. This is real. _Dante_ is real. And suddenly he gets incredibly nervous. His hands falter and Dante seems to notice because big hands wrap around his wrists and make him look him in the eyes again.

“You ok, Nero?”

And, God, the way he says his name is even erotic. It’s not _actually_ erotic, but it’s so full of care and concern for his well being, and it makes Nero feel incredibly soft. It also makes him very determined, despite being very nervous suddenly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry, kid. We’re going at your speed.” Dante gives him a light kiss before releasing his wrists to place his hands on Nero’s hips. The contact has a million terribly dirty thoughts running through Nero’s head, but they don’t manage to overpower the determined thought he had just prior.

Nero’s hands take their freedom to wander downwards, immediately going for the catch of Dante’s jeans. This time, he’s not going to be stopped, he’s determined to go further, and determined to be a good lover.

Lover.

That’s what they are, aren’t they? Nero’s had loveless sex so many times in his life. An unwilling participant. But he’s never had . Never had someone that actually cares about him and that he actually wants to make feel good. So he knows he could very well be terrible at this, it’s not something he’s even kind of done since…

He doesn’t want to think about all of the ways Grant has used him. Not now. Not ever, when he’s with Dante. Because Dante is clean and pure and _his_. And he wants to make him feel good.

It doesn’t take him long to get the jeans undone and he barely pulls them out of the way before he’s palming at Dante’s cock through his underwear and practically salivating at the idea that he’s the reason for its current state. And with the way Dante groans at his inexperienced touching while letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch, Nero feels like he’s doing at least not a terrible job.

His next move is to push Dante’s briefs down enough so that his cock is revealed. For a moment, Nero can’t help but just stare at it. Even feeling him through his underwear did not do the man justice. He’s _big_. Not scarily so, or anything, but he’s definitely thicker than Nero himself is and a big longer, too. Another million horribly lewd thoughts flit across his mind but he shakes his head. Those can be saved for another time, right now, he wants to do something for Dante.

Nero shifts on the couch and takes Dante in his hand before lowering his head and taking him into his mouth, halfway down in one go.

“Woah! Nero, that’s… Nngh. You don’t- have to.” Dante seems to struggle a bit to speak with Nero’s mouth around him, which makes him swell with immense pride.

He pulls off with a grin, “I want to.” Dante’s fingers run through his hair and he practically purrs at the feeling of it. He only pauses briefly before returning to the task at hand. Dante’s fingers tighten in his hair and it makes his scalp sting in the most delicious way. A moan bubbles up from deep in his throat and it apparently does something good because Dante echoes the sound and his fingers tighten even further, holding Nero in place and trying to push him down further.

Nero lets Dante do as he will. He relaxes his throat and lets Dante push him further, even when it starts to make him feel like gagging. But he does his best not to. He tries to become puddy in Dante’s hands, feeling the way his hands keep tightening and relaxing in his hair, the way he struggles not to just thrust wildly into his throat. It makes Nero feel good, useful, accomplished. It’s nice to know that he’s what is making Dante feel this way.

He’s just starting to get really into it, just figuring out where his limits are and how far he can really get before his throat tries to close off and he can’t really go farther, when Dante yanks his head back suddenly, painfully, by the grip in his hair. Nero comes off with a line of saliva still joining them. He tries to lean forward again, wanting to resume his actions that were so suddenly interrupted, but Dante keeps a firm grip and doesn’t let him.

“Kid… If you keep going I’m not going to last much longer.”

Again, he feels this incredible pride swell in his chest. Dante, the man known all over campus as sex on legs, is falling apart because of an inexperienced blowjob from _Nero_. Still though, he wants to keep going. He wants to make Dante fall apart, to make him feel good the way he deserves. But that grip in his hair won’t let him move and he’s left to pout.

One hand leaves his hair and a thumb tries to press out his pout as one would press out a crease from a sheet. But it’s softer than that, has more care. “Next time, ok? But I don’t want this to be over before it even starts.”

And Nero had to give him that one. Much as he wants to have that satisfaction as well as be the one to get him there, Nero doesn’t want this to end either. And there’s a tightness in his pants that tells him he definitely needs some of the action, too. He sighs, then, in a moment of pure devilry, he opens his mouth and captures Dante’s thumb before he can pull it away, sucking lewdly on it.

If he can’t suck his cock, he’s damn well gonna suck on his fingers.

And judging by the way Dante’s head turns and he looks almost pained, Nero thinks he’s into it. Maybe more into it than Nero had anticipated, but he’s dug his hole, time to hop right on down into that grave and make his bed. He tries to look sexy, but he’s not really sure how it comes across. Probably stupid, he can’t imagine he’s all that good at looking anything close to sultry. Not like Dante always seems to be able to do so effortlessly. Even now, watching Nero suck on his thumb while making obscene noises, he’s the picture of lust.

Nero can’t wait for what comes next.

Nero hardly even notices when Dante starts laying into Nero’s willingness to have his fingers in his mouth. Before long, he’s got three fingers stuffed between his lips and Nero simply lavs his tongue over all of them, trying his hardest to put on some kind of show.

Finally Dante pulls his fingers free, his other hand petting at Nero’s hair, “You know, I do have lube.”

He feels his face turn bright red, he only hopes the flush of arousal hides how embarrassed he is at how _open_ he is with Dante. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s easy to be open with him, to let the walls he’s spent his whole life building just crumble at Dante’s feet because he smiles at him. But he’s not used to the feeling, and it’s a little scary.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t even know what he’s apologising for, just feels like he should.

Dante smirks, “Don’t you worry, baby boy, that was hot as fuck.” Again, Nero feels his face heat. Less intensely this time, though. “C’mere,” Dante says, gently pulling Nero back toward him. Hands wander as they readjust their positions and Dante’s find their ways to Nero’s ass. He squeezes and it makes Nero make the most embarrassing squeak of a noise. But Dante doesn’t say anything, just kisses him while he moves his hands again and works at the catch of Nero’s jeans until he can push them down and reveal his briefs.

Kisses trail along Nero’s jaw until Dante’s lips are at his ear, “How about we take this somewhere more comfortable.” Nero doesn’t even hesitate when he nods. As nice as the living room couch is, it’s open and there’s a window to the street right there. And the girls have keys and there’s no telling when they could drop in. Nero would much rather not be interrupted by something so mundane as a surprise visit.

What he isn’t expecting, is the way Dante moves him until his legs are wrapped around his waist before standing up and carrying him as if he weighs nothing. Nero clings to the man, ankles locked behind his back and arms thrown around his neck. It’s oddly arousing to be carried like this, to have it seem so effortless for Dante to do so.

It doesn’t hurt when Dante practically drops him into his bed.

Nero’s only been in Dante’s room a handful of times, so the scenery is still mostly unfamiliar. But it’s _Dante_ , so it feels safe and warm and inviting. The sheets smell like him, the whole room does. But nothing is so potent as when the man himself bridges over him and _slowly_ pulls down the last piece of clothing between them.

Naked, Nero starts to feel self conscious. He’s got scars all over his body from beatings and worse, and he’s not really the greek statue that Dante is. And he hopes that Dante isn’t disappointed by his dick, standing well and at attention, but still feeling inadequate. Nero looks to the side, wanting to look anywhere but up at the man over him. He doesn’t want to look up and see disappointment. Or, God forbid, disgust.

He doesn’t look up until Dante is turning his head with a finger on his chin. And when he finally does look into those deep blue eyes, Nero doesn’t find anything negative there. Only love. “Beautiful,” Dante whispers, before catching Nero in a kiss that is deep, but chaste. It has Nero feeling all warm and loved again and he doesn’t really know quite how to handle it all but Dante is there to catch him as he falls and that’s what matters.

Dante’s lips begin a slow tour of Nero’s skin. He starts with his jaw, kissing and nuzzling up to his ear, traveling down his neck. Nero can’t help but make little sounds, especially when Dante’s teeth graze his skin in some of his more sensitive spots. The attention continues over his collarbones and to his chest. Here, Dante spends a bit more time, giving special attention to Nero’s nipples and making his back arch with the way he sucks at them.

Eventually, Dante separates from Nero’s skin and leans back. Nero opens his eyes, not having realised he had closed them at some point, and looks at the man with a silent question. Dante’s expression is… strange. Nero can’t quite place it. He wants to ask, but Dante has his fingers tracing patterns in his skin and it’s distracting him enough not to.

Finally, though, Dante speaks, still continuing his hapless wandering fingers. “I… can bottom, if you want. I don’t usu-”

“No.”

Nero cuts him off without thinking. He doesn’t know where he gets the brazen courage, even when his cheeks are burning in embarrassment. “I…” his courage takes a bit of a dip as he tries to articulate what he wants now, but he plows on, “I want you… inside me.” His whole body is blushing pink from having said it, but it’s true and Dante needs to know.

The man in question lets out a breath and grins, “Well that’s good, because I really want to make you fall apart on my dick.”

Nero frowns, “How romantic…” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He quickly ends up eating his words, though, because suddenly, Dante is sucking on a nipple again and he arches his back and moans long and loud. It isn’t fair how good he is at this. It’s like he already knows all of Nero’s secret places that he doesn’t even really know himself. When Dante pulls away again, he’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that he carries all the way up to kiss Nero’s lips while he leans over to root around in his nightstand.

Of course he has lube and condoms in there. And of course he doesn’t need to look while he pulls them out and tosses them to the mattress behind Nero’s head for later use. At least, the condoms. The lube is popped open with that classic plastic flip top sound and then a lewd squirting sound accompanies Dante kneeling between Nero’s legs while he squirts the gel over his fingers.

Dante spends a few moments just rubbing his fingers together, spreading around the gel and warming it up. It’s such a tiny gesture, but one Nero really appreciates. He doesn’t even really do it for himself, so to think someone else would bother makes him… it makes him feel a bit warm again. Once Dante is satisfied, he gently pushes Nero’s legs wider and even more gently, touches him at his entrance.

For a split second, Nero’s brain short circuits. He flinches slightly, but noticeably enough that Dante pulls back and looks worried. “You ok, kid? Did I hurt you?”

Nero takes a breath, not letting himself fall into panic. “I’m good, just… just reflex. I’m ok.”

Dante looks at him carefully, “You’re sure? You’ll tell me if it’s bad?”

“Promise.” it was a momentary lapse in understanding where he is, of being back in that bedroom he grew up in. But just a moment and it’s over now. “It’s not bad. ‘S good.”

Finally, that seems to placate Dante, and the man gives him a bit of a smile before reaching back toward him and touching him again. This time, Nero is ready and the contact doesn’t send him into a bad place. It feels good. He’s sensitive, and when Dante uses his clean hand to grip Nero’s cock and give it slow, languid strokes, Nero can’t help but moan, throwing his head back against the mattress and squeezing his eyes shut.

As Dante presses a finger into him and his moans increase in volume, unable to hold them back, Dante starts a string of praises and words that hardly make sense to Nero, but they never cease. Things like “I’ve got you,” “You’re doing so well,” “So pretty,” and many more embarrassing praises and sweet nothings while Dante works a finger inside his ass. Not that Nero is complaining. It’s… kind of nice to hear the praise and encouragement. Especially when Dante says something about how good he is.

So maybe he has a bit of a praise kink.

Or something.

Things to unpack at a time when Dante doesn’t have three fingers worked into him, stretching him so deliciously, and massaging at his prostate.

As it were, Nero is keening. He can’t keep his hips still, rocking them against Dante’s fingers and the hand stroking at him agonisingly slow. It feels like they’ve been at this for hours. On one hand, Nero appreciates the slow, careful way Dante is treating him. But on the other, he is desperate to feel him, desperate to get on with it. Hungry to be full in a way he’s never been before.

Even knowing that, when Dante withdraws his fingers, Nero whines. Loudly. Dante snickers at him, “Patience, baby boy.” Dante covers over Nero as he reaches for one of the condoms he had thrown aside earlier. His thigh brushes against Nero’s now neglected cock, sending shocks through his body and making him hum with impatience.

He considers telling Dante to fuck the condom and fuck him, but they haven’t even touched the topic of getting tested and he’s not sure he’s quite ready to feel that feeling again. That messy feeling that he knows so well when it’s all over. It’s…

He refuses to think about that. Not now. Not with Dante coating himself liberally with lube over him, looking down at Nero with this _look_. That look tells him everything he needs to know. Everything is there in that look. There’s hunger and lust, but mostly there’s love. There’s love Nero had been conditioned to believe he could never receive.

The feeling of Dante’s cock against his ass, slick with lube, is incredibly erotic. Much more so than Nero had ever thought possible. He tries to stay still, he really does, but his hips still twitch slightly against the slight pressure, hungry for what is to come. Dante smirks above him before pressing forward. Suddenly, they’re both lost in the experience of it. Dante’s smirk is wiped from his face as he moans in duet with Nero’s own moans. The stretch is delicious, almost too much and not enough at the same time. And Dante is _slow_ on his way in. Each extra centimeter is the most agonising pleasure.

It takes ages before Dante stops, finally deep within him. Both of them have to simply breathe. Heavy, deep breaths fills the room as the only sound between them while the moment stretches on. It’s heavy, the whole room smells like sex and sweat. Nero skin feels like it’s on fire, like every nerve ending is alight with this burning pleasure pain.

Dante has to repeat himself _and_ nuzzle into Nero’s neck before he realises that he’s talking to him. “You alright there, baby boy?”

Nero has to take several tries to be able to speak, flapping his mouth like some kind of beached fish. But finally he manages to make his brain and his lips and his vocal cords work in some kind of tandem. “‘M good- good, just- please…” He can’t manage to do more than that. He just reaches up and grips at Dante’s shoulders and sends a prayer to a god he hasn’t believed in since he was eight.

When Dante moves, the clouds break, the seas crash against the cliff, the gods come down to smite the Earth, and every other dumb cliché that exists. Nero knows how the physical act of sex works, he understands and he’s been through it. But nothing— _nothing_ — could have prepared him for how _incredible_ this feels.

Dante barely pulls out before he slides back in. It’s a gentle, shallow pace he sets at first. Like he’s testing the waters, testing Nero’s reactions. Not that he really needs to. Nero is a mess of moans and pleas. His nails are raking over Dante’s skin, wherever he can find purchase. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded while Dante increases his pace and pulls out more before slamming back into him, picking up force.

Nero sings. His voice can’t help but make every sound under the sun to prove to Dante he is _enjoying_ this. And Dante responds in kind. He’s quieter, barely, and his voice is deeper, but he’s showing to Nero that this is just as good for him, and every now and then he starts devolving into praises again, telling Nero how good he is.

They’re clinging to each other through it all. Nero is sure he’s shredding Dante’s skin, leaving angry red marks from his nails all over him. But he doesn’t seem to mind, holding him closer than Nero thought possible. Their breath mingles together, hot and sticky, and the bed bangs against the wall with every thrust, creating a symphony of their coupling.

One of Dante’s hands sneaks down and grips Nero once more and it makes him throw his head back and drag yet more lines into Dante’s back. He doesn’t know if he can handle how good it is. Dante’s hand on him and his dick hitting him in the most _exquisite_ way. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s exactly what he needs.

Time slows. Or maybe it speeds up. Nero can’t tell anymore. It doesn’t matter. Everything feels so good and he’s right on the edge, voice begging Dante for something, _anything_. He’s so close but he can’t let himself fall over the edge. He can’t let go, all this pleasure built up ready to explode and he can’t handle it.

But Dante is right there, close to him, right above him. His mouth is all over him, less kissing and more just open mouthed against his skin. It’s clear they’re both out of their minds in that moment, and yet Dante manages to form actual words. “I’ve got you, baby boy, I’ve got you.”

Nero’s voice is hoarse from all his moaning and whining, “Can’t- I can’t- D-Dante…” The name is the only thing that even feel right on his tongue anymore.

This time, Dante does actually kiss him, right on his lips, silencing him for a moment despite the continued thrusting sending him to another goddamn planet. When they part, Nero manages to peel his eyes open to find Dante looking at him with this incredibly soft expression, so at odds with their actions. “You can. I’ve got you, just let go.” Another kiss, and more, trailing from his lips over his jaw, to his ear, “Come for me, Nero.”

That does it.

He can’t hold back even if he had wanted to. Warm come covers Dante’s hand and his abdomen while his mind ascends. On the edges of his consciousness, he can vaguely feel Dante thrust into him hard a few more times before stilling and nearly collapsing against him. As he starts coming down from the high of it all, he clings to Dante the same way the man clings to him. Dante’s face nuzzles into his neck and his fingers softly pet unintelligible patterns into his skin. It’s the perfect way to come down from probably the most incredible orgasm of his entire life.

They stay like that, silent, for some time. Eventually, Dante shifts and he slips out of Nero accompanied by a wince from both of them. Nero feels Dante pull away and tightens his arms, “Nooo.”

Dante giggles and kisses his cheek, “Gotta clean up, kiddo, I’ll be back.”

Nero loosens his arms with a pout, not wanting to give up the warmth of Dante pressed up against him. Dante leans back and peels the condom off of himself before tying it off and tossing it expertly into a bin nearby. Then he throws his legs over the side of the bed to side on the edge and begins digging through his nightstand again. When he comes back, he’s got wet wipes in his hand and starts wiping down Nero’s front. The cool wipe feels kind of nice against Nero’s too hot skin.

When he’s finished, Dante tosses that into the bin as well before pushing Nero over to the side a bit and laying down next to him. He wraps his arms around Nero and Nero easily lets himself be held until they are comfortably within each others arms.

The silence stretches between them for some time while they simply enjoy each other and being close. After a while, Dante speaks into Nero’s hair, “Is everything ok?”

Nero leans his head back so he can look into Dante’s eyes, “More than, why wouldn’t it be?”

Dante smiles, “Good. I love you.”

The words come out so easily and sound so fucking _normal_ that Nero doesn’t even catch them at first. When they do manage to sink in, Nero’s heart pounds and something akin to anxiety hits him. But it’s not panic, like his usual anxieties. This time, it’s something else. He doesn’t know what to do or how he’s supposed to react. Especially when Dante is just… not. He’s back to snuggling against Nero and acting like nothing is different.

But everything is different. Nero doesn’t think he’s ever had someone say those words to him in his life. At least, never when they were meant, to be sure. It’s an entirely new feeling for him. To be loved. To be loved so openly, blatantly, without a hint of ulterior motives or lying.

It feels pretty damn nice.

He’s pretty sure at least five minutes of silence pass in which Dante holds him close and his breathing gets more even and regular and he can feel their hearts beating in tandem. And then, without letting himself think too hard about it, he tells the truth.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOF
> 
> This was SO MUCH FUN to write. It was definitely an experience. I wrote most of it during NaNo, but that last chapter was written almost entirely after the fact and I only just now finished it and it has been an ADVENTURE. I hope that you all enjoyed this journey as much as I have. These sweet soft boys get to be happy and in love now and nothing will ever hurt them again.  
> Probably.  
> ANYWAY. Thank you so much to everyone that has read this, kept up with it, and made it all the way here. This is not my first slow burn DN fic, but it is the first one that felt like this for me. And it's definitely an emotional piece for me in a lot of ways. It's so nice to be back in the swing of DN and DMC in general and I hope you're all looking forward to DMCV as much as I am!!  
> I'll shut up now, thank you all again so much for reading. See you in the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/playingchello).


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